


159

by intoxicatedcinnamon (orphan_account)



Series: 159 (Architect/Interior Designer AU) [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Architect Haru, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Eventual Smut, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Humor, Interior designer Makoto, M/M, Masturbation, Praise Kink, Romance, Slow Build, Smut, Tender Sex, Tenderness, Tokyo AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:39:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 59,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5744188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/intoxicatedcinnamon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a hundred and fifty-eight skyscrapers in Tokyo. Haru thinks the hundred and fifty-ninth won't make a difference in a postcard. </p><p>Until a certain tall, green-eyed interior designer named Tachibana Makoto comes along to turn his heart and mind upside down. </p><p>There's work to do and a project to complete... but maybe that's how they manage to find love along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. all my maps will only show me how to lose my way

**Author's Note:**

> All titles are from songs by Vienna Teng
> 
> Fanart for my fics are waffling at @attemptingtofan on insta, go say hi!!! (we follow back hehe) <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _all my maps will only show me how to lose my way.  
>  oh call my name.  
> you know my name.  
> and in that sound, everything will change.  
> tell me  
> it won’t always be this hard.  
> \- Nothing Without You, 2006_

There are a hundred and fifty-eight skyscrapers in Tokyo. Haru thinks the hundred and fifty-ninth won't make a difference in a postcard. 

The lights all bleed together into a lurid mess at night, anyway. After you graduate, you realise salary isn't as big a reward as you imagined it to be. Sure, architects still do pretty decently in the food chain (ie. The infographic that they show you in high school listing jobs by salary in descending order) but they go unnoticed as they leave their mark. It's the bitterly humourous confusion of being there while not _being there._ No one has an idea. And he doesn't have a name to most--just a title: "The Architect" that will never be more than a passing thought, one paragraphed line in an obscure document. 

Haru would never have thought that he was the type to _want_ attention. But he thinks looking at that building will leave an ache in his heart--like he's forced to abandon it after it's completed. All his thoughts and late nights, all the times he lay in bed with a smile, seeing the way water had wrapped itself around the design. Funny isn't it, how they don't tell you disillusionment is not "letting yourself down" or pessimism, it's not an out-of-the-ordinary kind of sadness. It's exactly what the word looks like--the breaking of an illusion, the shattering of the comfortable light in which deception has always been accepted. 

But Haru also knows that thanks is offered fleetingly and then forgotten an hour later. He doesn't need that kind of insincere obligation. Yet, he craves a human contact, the warm feeling of someone actually appreciating his work and shaking his hand, _remembering him_ , even if just for a moment. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe he doesn't know what he wants and so he ends up like tonight, feeling that he has nothing at all. 

Their website parrots "Making a difference through design" but the veneer of _greatness_ has worn off in the past year into smudged floor mats and cluttered neighbouring cubicles with lights turned on way too late into the night. Haru thinks he might need to fall off one of their own buildings if life carries on in circles like this. Of course, that's a poetic ideal because he as a fucking architect should know better than anyone else that skyscrapers are built to prevent anyone from blemishing their safety records. 

He as a fucking architect also knows that his design won't "make a difference" in the spectacular life-changing sense that they mean it because the city he has signed his life to is the home to bent-headed poster children for metaphorical working class calendars. It's not a bad idea actually--the months could be accompanied by taglines like "Work till the next midnight" or "Pay raise, maybe?" (Which obviously, never happens. He thinks people should have figured out how to read the tone of an empty promise by now.) He thinks he himself could feature in December, as the shining star atop a Christmas tree with a _I thought life was supposed to take off after university_ grin. He bets half the people who are going to work in the building planned won't be able to describe it offhand once they leave. 

He stops by the boss' office on his way out. "Ah, Nanase. Happy new year." Haru acknowledges the perfunctory phrase with a polite nod of his own. "I'm sorry, I know it's the last day of the year but I need a proposal in two days. This is probably one of the best projects we'll get for a long time and we cannot afford to disappoint." His boss leans back with a smile. "I'm sure you know what I mean." 

It means no tardiness, no mistakes, only perfection and imagination that will impress the client. Haru is perfectly clear about what he means. "Yes sir." 

"Good, good." The fat man smiles even broader and folds his hands in a steeple on his desk. "That will be all, thank you." As Haru turns on his heel, he calls out after him, "Think about all the socialites that will be mingling on the top floors of your building, Nanase. Happy holidays!" _Happy holidays indeed_ , Haru mulls under his breath. But it won't really make a difference. He's used to spending holidays alone anyway. This time, it'll be him again with the clacking of keys for company. Sometimes he wonders what life would be like having parents who didn't see him as a duty to be acknowledged only when attendance is taken and having a big family which he could feel at ease with. Right now, he's just the grandson who draws buildings in Tokyo (half the cousins probably still think he's a graffiti artist) brought up as a sidenote in get-togethers. He wouldn't be lying if he said he'd rather be here than in a house full of people he doesn't remember keeping up a pleasant expression and hiding behind cups of tea for a few hours. Still, being alone doesn't sit as well as it looks either as he trudges back four blocks through the cold. There's a horribly quiet emptiness in his house and the niggling doubt that maybe he's the problematic one because he's never gotten invites to countdown on New Years Eve even when he was in uni. He could probably call Rin who's staying in campus but the redhead and holidays usually come packaged with loud parties and new people along with substantial amounts of alcohol that he's not ready to stomach. 

The only consolation is that he's finally, _finally_  being put in charge of a project so he doesn't have to go along with some static symmetry that mediocrity insists has to be present for something to be beautiful.

 _Water_ was the first thing that came to mind. The first concept that cleared up the clutter in his head and continues to soothe as he deliberates on how to fill up the various fields in the template. He hadn't graduated top of his class with first class honours from the University of Tokyo by chance. People normally shy away from ideas that are too fluid, too... _undefined_  for anything as big as this but Haru doesn't mind. Water has always been there for him and so he figures, it's a fitting tribute to have it as the main contributor to the first building Haru will have his name to. 

The form also asks for a proposed interior design collaborator. Haru honestly doesn't know. He scans the list of companies they've worked with before and their representatives, and his eye catches on a name: _Tachibana Makoto._ It sounds gentle, and restful and he wonders what she'll look like. He thinks slim pencil skirt with a messy brown bun. Either way, he sends an email to her, asking her if she's interested and if so, for a slot to discuss working together. Haru knows that he should probably look through the company's portfolio and reviews first but the rest of the names after hers seem to flow past him in one bored stream and the more he thinks about it, the more it sits well with him. Cracking his knuckles, he takes a sip of his tea then gets to work researching materials. He thinks he might be partial to the way glass works with a teal themed mosaic.

His phone announces 3 am by the time he decides to sleep.

The day after he submits the report, Haru seats himself in a booth tucked into the corner beside a large window in a quiet coffee shop downtown. He is fifteen minutes early, watching the wind whip umbrellas left and right outside. What should he say? "Yes, hi?" or "Yes, I'm Nanase," or should he scrap the _yes_  entirely and just settle for a "Hello"? No, that would be too awkward... But not saying anything at all would be even worse, especially since he has been told that his slight upward tilting of the lips isn't considered a smile in mainstream society, and definitely not to strangers. "Please sit down"? Would that be too authoritative? He doesn't want to come across as high-browed and offend the girl at their first meeting...

"Nanase-san?" A voice interrupts his thoughts. "Yes uh, please take a seat," he says without time to overthink, then freezes. Wait. It was definitely a male voice that called his name. And the person who has appeared in front of him is most decidedly... male, _very, very much so_ in a dark blue suit with white shirt cuffs peeking neatly out from his sleeves. His eyes are the most refreshing shade of green Haru has ever seen--they look clear and alert and compliment his sandy fringe perfectly. 

"Tachibana Makoto?" He asks, trying to contain his surprise, and the man lights up with a boyish smile. "Yes, I'm Tachibana. Nice to meet you, Nanase-san!" Messy bun and pencil skirt, make way for _tall and tanned._ If Haru had to hazard a guess, he'd say that the guy had done his fair share of outdoor sports in the past. "Would you like to order anything?" Makoto taps his bottom lip as he flips through the menu in front of him. "Ah, I'll have a mocha please." Haru waves a waiter over and places an order for Makoto's coffee with hot jasmine green tea for himself.

"Right, so I've brought the preliminary designs today. There might be changes here and there but the main idea is set." Haru slides a clear plastic folder across the table with diagrams and measurements along with a drawing of the front and side views. He notices that Makoto has strong hands--a prominent wrist bone and long fingers. "Have you come up with any ideas so far?"

They talk for the next two hours. It's amusing how this Tachibana Makoto clears the cups to the side all business-like to draw with his fingers on the table. He switches angles with his entire torso and uses just enough "So you see"s to stabilise Haru on his mind that seems to be able to wobble around alarmingly like a top in contrast to his own orderly, compartmentalized one. He leans forward earnestly when he explains and punctuates his sentences with smiles that make his pistachio green eyes light up when Haru nods or "Mm"s in understanding. He is exactly what Haru thought he himself would be--enthusiastic, seemingly in love with his job, brimming with confidence and creativity. He could cynically comfort himself that this guy is untouched and naive, and so he has every right to be muted in his presence but Haru is one for avoidance, not blatant lying, and especially not to himself.

He finds himself nursing a drink in the evening like a hardened old-timer, remembering of all things that Tachibana Makoto's eyes had curved gently downwards when he shook his hand goodbye. The alcohol is starting to set in his system and he idly wonders what the man is doing now. Does he have a girlfriend? A family? Does he live in a tiny apartment? Anywhere he lives would most likely be beautiful: bright and airy like the way he speaks. He seemed like a house plant person, perhaps he'd pair them with black and white tiles on the wall behind the sofa... Maybe even- "GOOOAAL!!" A roaring cheer erupts around him and fists bang on the table, pushing Haru rather gracelessly out of his reverie. Right... He's in a pub after all... Taking one last swallow of his cocktail, the burn travels down his throat and he gets up to trudge the few blocks back. The air is rigid and lonely, even with the tens of people crossing the intersection, collars turned up against the wind, and Haru wonders when he'd lost his spark. Or was it never there at all? 

The next six days pass in a colourless reel of meetings with engineers and the clients who keep demanding reports that they probably don't understand anyway. Haru wears a tie every morning, assumes his professional front and uses the words he has been taught. He knows he's being boring. But everyone else here is just as sedate, and as stiff as their collars. Words like "practicality" and "win-win" feature in a competition of who can say the most embellished sentences with the least meaning. It's nothing like his meeting with Makoto, where the man just brushed past his stiff terseness with enough energy for the two of them. It's kind of addictive. The most random things still stick in his head: how Makoto's voice went a little deeper when he was thinking, the protrusions of his knuckles under the light, his collarbone hinting at the opening of his shirt because _he_ wasn't wearing a tie... it's safe to say that he's looking forward to Saturday and a certain pair of broad shoulders across the table.

"I've drawn a layout of the top floors, Nanase-san." Tachibana Makoto pushes up his specs (which Haru doesn't remember him wearing the last time but _oh_ , they make his eyes look brighter and he's never devoted time to the study of how black-rimmed glasses match perfectly with a red plaid shirt and khaki pants but this man is walking scientific proof of a final attractive effect) and says seriously. "Each floor will have a different theme but they all coordinate with your exterior. Maybe you could give some more suggestions?" Haru takes a moment to process this. _Five layouts._ In one week. And from the looks of it, this wasn't rushed or shoddy work. Each colour has been carefully labelled with its RGB value, and notes scribbled here and there with the exact texture or weave that was desired in words like "must be criss cross (+) not (x)!!!!" amongst other expressions that Haru finds oddly endearing. Makoto evidently has an eye for detail, something which makes Haru heave a sigh of relief. He has heard stories from his friends about people who wave lilac and lavender off as "roughly the same colour" (like what, the only similarity Haru can observe... is no similarity at all after you look past the obvious fact that light purple is a large colour family and these people are supposed to have paid money for an education in such things?) or leave the small logistics to the end to trip themselves up. Makoto watches him with his eyebrows furrowed together in an anxious, yet hopeful expression. Haru thinks both of them will have absolutely nothing to worry about if he can continue like this. _Five layouts in one week._ Some of his uni classmates didn't even get that much done in one semester. "How is it?"

"It's...uh, it's good," Haru allows himself a small smile as he lifts his eyes from the tablet to the other man. "I think we can definitely work with this."

"Really?" Makoto's entire being seems to perk up. "I'm so glad!" His cheeks are a faint pink and he's clasping his hands together. Haru thinks he looks like the happy dolphin toy he still keeps at the side of his bath with bright eyes and two spots of colour under them. It's cute. No wait, no Haru did not just say that Makoto was cute. No. But who's he kidding, there's a list perpetually hovering in his mind titled _Things good about Makoto_. And it reads something like this:  
1\. Good grammar in emails  
2\. An adorable stutter when he's nervous  
3\. Glasses that make him look smart  
4\. He's actually smart  
5\. cUTE (okay fine he admits it) 

He suspects he's just picking up every detail that he's getting to know about the man and putting it into the list because he feels like he needs some sort of justification. For what? He doesn't quite know either. 

"Right." Haru has no idea how to deal with joy so openly expressed and chooses not to try. "Do you have any other questions?" He blanches internally. That wasn't how it was meant to come out, it sounds like Haru is trying to dismiss him as soon as possible but that's not true: he's actually hoping that he _will_ have questions. In fact, he's hoping he has more than two so they can stay here a while longer and Haru can experiment with making more eye contact. But instead of trying to hastily correct his error and probably mess things up even more, he straightens his back and hopes he doesn't look as desperate as he feels. Makoto looks slightly taken aback but he smiles shyly again. "Actually, Nanase-san, it's almost six-thirty," Haru opens his mouth to apologise for keeping him so long and suggest corresponding by email but Makoto continues "Maybe we could... ah, discuss this over dinner?" Haru must look as stunned as he feels because Makoto blinks a few times and hurriedly interjects "Of course, if you're not free... it's-" "Yes," Haru stumbles to reply. "I'm-it's, yes, dinner sounds good." Well, eloquence and composure have gone right out the door, haven't they?

They gather up their coats and prepare to leave. As Haru slides out of the seat, he notices a pair of white earphones left at the side of the table. They're not his- so... "Makoto," he calls after the other man, then catches himself. Makoto turns curiously, then hurries back to the table. "Oh yeah those are mine, thanks Nanase-san!" It's an address out of habit but Haru can't help feeling like it just set fire to his ears.

"That was rude of me just now, Tachibana-san." Haru states as they start heading towards the nearest ramen shop. "No, no it's fine actually..." Haru waits for him to complete his sentence. Makoto clears his throat and adjusts his glasses again. "You could call me that from now on, if you... ah, don't mind." His mouth is half hidden behind his cream-coloured scarf but Haru is certain he detects a tentative curve in those green, green eyes his mind had been fixed on all this time. It's comforting, knowing that he's not the only painfully nervous one with his heart threatening to thud out of his ribs. "Alright," he replies.

Makoto lets out a long breath. Haru knows this is cue for him to pick up his dropped conversation but _he doesn't know what to say_. The silence is stretched out thin for thirty awkward sounds of their shoes on the road, each sounding louder than the last before Makoto ventures, "Can I uh, call you... Haruka then, Nanase-san?" It's ironic, really, to have the two names in the same sentence. "Haru," he says shortly, _(why can't he improve, goddammit?)_ shoving his hands into his pockets. "Sorry?" "Call me Haru, not Haruka." Haru tries to explain with more words. "Ah okay!"

He expects it to be slightly difficult, transitioning into first-name familiarity but Haru has been thinking of him as "Makoto" for so long that it fluidly slips out whenever he needs it. Their focus is lulled off suits and ties and glass and mosaics, to the smell of sizzling teriyaki and the fact that serious conversation is quite unfeasible with a whole group of high school students joking and laughing at the table right behind them. So they talk about themselves--or Haru asks standard questions and Makoto gives long answers that are contentedly listened to. 

He finds out that Makoto has twin siblings who live in Iwatobi named Ran and Ren, and who in Makoto's opinion, don't look anything alike but behave like identicals. And he finds out that Iwatobi is a seaside town, with boats casting black silhouettes on mild sunsets and gloriously fresh mackerel and Haru is wildly jealous. Swimming in the ocean is something living in the city affords little chance to do--the last time he managed to sneak two hours was during a school trip in winter and he had almost frozen his feet off, but it he remains obsessed with the sea, vast oceans and the waves, endless waves that rear up to crash on the rocks and know intently his own restlessness. Which brings him to the point... 

"Did you do any sports back in uni, Makoto? Or in high school?" 

"Huh?" Makoto peers up from his bowl as he opens his mouth to take in another spoonful of soup. Swallowing quickly, he says "Yeah, I swam in high school... Y'know, relays, hundred metres and stuff."

"You swim?" Haru can't stop the exclamation from tumbling out. "Me-me too!" The grin that dawns on Makoto's face threatens to split his face in half. "Which stroke?" He eagerly asks back.

"I only swim free." Haru says and blinks, daring him not to ask the question _oh front crawl?_ but Makoto just nods in understanding. "I like back." Haru feels like he's entered enlightenment about the true nature of Makoto's defined muscles. 

"Did you ever make it to nationals? We might have seen each other then," The meal is completely forgotten. Haru has never been a firm believer in fate and the red string and all that but right now, he wants it to confirm himself. "I swam the hundred metres and relay in my third year."

"Wait, wait 100 metres...?" Makoto squints like he's trying to remember something, then suddenly exclaims, "Wait, you're _that_ Nanase Haruka? You won that race right?"

"Yeah," Haru manages a weak chuckle, rubbing his neck to dispel some of the flush that has suddenly risen. "I uh-"

"I saw, Haru!" Makoto's eyes sparkle with something akin to wonder. "I saw you! Your swimming is beautiful!" 

"We could swim together some time then, if you want?" Haru offers, trying for offhand and _nope, you don't affect me that much_ but it sounds shy, even to his own ears. He's actually not sure how swimming and socialising will work because they'll swim (underwater, where words don't work) in separate lanes and a deep and meaningful conversation is hardly possible at the starting block but it's worth a try. It feels okay. Makoto feels okay. 

 


	2. knock knock knock of your own heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There will be no sign from above.  
>  You'll only hear the knock knock knock  
> Of your own heart as signal.  
> \- Level Up, 2013_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE IT IS GUYS! :) I'm sorry it took so long and it's rather short but I thought it would be helpful to give some of Makoto's thoughts on things. I've got most of the next 3 chapters written so let's hope inspiration strikes often enough for me to tie up the loose ends 
> 
> Thank you to all the people who have been reading this and leaving comments--you guys are the best and I really appreciate each and every single one of you. 
> 
> Kudos and more comments are always welcome, please do leave them if you enjoyed this!

"But Mako-chan, you _have_  to go!" Nagisa whines for the seventh time in the past hour after dinner at Makoto's house. "You said he's nice anyway right? What's the problem?" 

Rei clears his throat gently to restrain his boyfriend. "Um, Nagisa, maybe we shouldn't..." 

"No, no, Rei-chan, don't you see?" Nagisa bounces frustratedly on the couch. "This might finally be Mako-chan's chance to find true love!" When Rei doesn't reply immediately, Nagisa feels obliged to add, "His prince!" 

Makoto glances fondly at his two friends. Rei and Nagisa had been together ever since their last year of high school. They were perfect for each other from the start--sweet, geeky Rei and explosive, kind-hearted Nagisa. And despite being in a relationship, they never sacrificed being best friends with Makoto. He's grateful that the two of them have been putting up with his indecisiveness and moving out of the way when he needs to pace around for the entire evening.

"I'd like to go too," Makoto sighs again, "but I don't know if it'll be awkward..." 

"Makoto-senpai," Rei adjusts his glasses in the way he does just before he makes a Very Important Point. "You said he was shy, so technically he'd be more awkward than you are. But he invited you, so it should be fine." 

"Yeah see Mako-chan? Rei-chan thinks you should go too!" Nagisa seizes his opportunity. 

"I am not," Rei retorts with no bite. "I am simply putting the facts out there but Makoto-senpai is free to make his decision." 

It's a good thing Rei had come along. Otherwise, Makoto thinks that he'd probably be sat down by Nagisa for "a talk" and a flurry of advice while writing a text dictated to him.

"Anyway, he's _Nanase_ _Haruka_ , Mako-chan! Aren't you even a little bit curious to see how he swims?" Nagisa wheedles, trying a different tactic now. "Up close?" 

Makoto has to admit, Nagisa is right on both accounts. It's not every day that life drops an intelligent, handsome man who seems interested in making friends right in front of you. And it's definitely not every day that the man happens to be one of the best swimmers in the country.

His mind wanders back to what Nanase... Haru had looked like. He was hardly as intimidating as Makoto had always thought him to be since he set his record and simply stalked out of the pool without any of the flamboyant waving or celebration. Up close, Haru is calm, serene, tacit. Makoto was only able to read glimmers, hints of emotion in his deep blue eyes but they give him the feeling that Haru feels and thinks more than he lets on. 

"But what if he looks down on me? Like what if he just whizzes past and I'm left with half a lap to go?" Makoto asks desperately, hiding his red face behind a cushion that had fallen on the floor with Nagisa's perpetual moving around. "It'll be so embarrassing!" 

"Makoto-senpai, you've been keeping up with the training. I think the possibility of drastically falling behind is quite low." Rei analyses and counters. "Even if he _is_ Nanase-san."

"At the most, you can flatter him if you lose and he'll like you more, no?" Nagisa suggests cheerfully, seemingly unaware of how unhelpful he's being to Makoto's racing heart.

"Nagisa!" 

"What, don't tell me you never realised, Rei-chan?" Nagisa purrs. "That's how I got you to notice me y'know." Makoto doesn't need to look at Rei to know that he's gazing at the blonde in horror at what he would call _planned love_  which is not beautiful at all. 

"Do you... really think it'd go okay?" Makoto asks again. 

"Of course, Mako-chan!" Nagisa beams proudly. "He's a strong swimmer and will protect you from any bad guys, don't worry!" Seeing Rei's chastising look, he lowers his exuberance and pats Makoto comfortingly on the shoulder. "I'm kidding, of course it'll be fine, Mako-chan." 

Lying alone in bed alone with his hands steepled on his chest, Haru drifts back into Makoto's mind more clearly than he had the entire day. His crisp white shirt tucked neatly into grey trousers, how precise his voice had been, the way he nodded and quirked his lips when Makoto talked that made him feel like he was actually interested even though he wasn't replying.

Perhaps he's getting ahead of himself--which stable, rational adult starts thinking about someone all the time after meeting him only once?

But despite all that, he reaches over to his desk and grabs his phone, squinting at the brightness of the screen. Turning over on his stomach to type with both thumbs, he tries not to think too much about what he's going to say.

 ** _00:14:56 To: Nanase Haruka_**  
Is this your work number? Anyway, I can make it this weekend! ^^

Haru might not even be awake, he should just check his alarm for tomorrow morning and go to sleep. But he holds on to a sliver of hope, his heart thumping hard (and irrationally because what's there to be afraid of, right?).

His phone vibrates.

 ** _00:18:25 To: Tachibana Makoto_**  
I use the same number for everything. Ok, see you

Makoto can't help but note the full stop and absence of emojis. But that's the way Haru talks in real life too. And that's okay.


	3. if you are alive, give more now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If you are afraid, give more  
>  If you are alive, give more now  
> Everybody here has seams and scars  
> \- Level Up, 2013 _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo all my lovely pumpkins :D

  
A whole swirl of worries had clouded Haru's mind the night before, leaving him with smudges under his eyes as he methodically prepares his bath. How should they start? Will they just jump in with an "okay" and start swimming laps? How will they know when to stop? The horrific scenario of both of them swimming non-stop while unknowingly waiting for each other and not wanting to be impolite presents itself. And how about interaction? There's only so many times that Haru can ask "How's the pool?" --the only question he has at the moment--at the end of each lap. (No actually, bring "so many times" down to one because who the hell asks the same question twice?)

Haru doesn't exactly fit into the 'adventurously put together, effortlessly stylish' stereotype of a designer. His usual casual get-up consists of a v-neck t shirt and jeans when it's warm, and a long sleeved v neck t shirt and jeans in winter. Today, his top is blue and white striped (Rin calls it his "you look like a zebra that went through pop art bleach treatment" shirt but he doesn't care because he likes it.) and he grabs it off the rack as he towels off, checking the clock all the while. 

People are streaming out from the gantries at the station. Suddenly, a familiar mop of sandy hair bobs above the rest of the crowd and green eyes rest on him. Makoto hurries over, clasping his gym bag close to him.

"Haru! I'm sorry, did you wait long?"

"It's fine, I just got here."

Makoto is in a raglan and black track pants. The sleeves are a grey gradient, from a smoky, heavy shade at the cuffs to the colour of clouds escaping just after rain at his collar. Looking down at himself, Haru wrinkles his forehead and worries that he might have underestimated the amount of effort one actually should put into dressing for meeting a new friend. Makoto doesn't look like he's trying to impress, but he just does. And on the other hand, Haru _is_  trying to impress. But he doesn't know how. This is not working. Okay.

Walking together through the underpass towards the sports complex, Haru fiddles with the hem of his shirt a little, hearing the sound of other people's conversations glide by them.  _Nothing could go wrong with talking_ _neutrally_ _about work right?_ So he says "Hey, did the board contact you about the meeting next month?"

Wrong move. Makoto starts worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and suddenly looks nervous and hesitant. "Yeah... uh-"

"Uh huh?" Haru still prompts quietly with a raise of his eyebrows.

"I-it's my first real project, Haru." He interrupts himself with a small, helpless laugh, running his fingers through his fringe. "I'm really scared and like, what if they reject everything?" Green eyes waver and Makoto's normally open, happy face is crumpled into a small frown. "I don't know if I can come up with new ideas and stuff?" The end of his sentence goes up in a question, like he's asking if he should actually be taken seriously.  

So Makoto was afraid too. "Well..." Haru says pensively, gingerly, to pick the right words. "It's actually my first time too y'know?" Makoto still looks rather unconvinced so he continues, "If anything happens we'll think of something together okay?"

"Really?" Makoto's face lights up again and it somehow calms Haru down too. "Yeah," he confirms with a small smile of his own.

In the locker room, Haru sneaks glances at Makoto to check if he should take out the old swimming top he brought just in case or continue shirtless. But once Makoto straightens up from the bench and turns back to smile at him, everything else is just wiped from his mind. Makoto might be a near stranger--a very new acquaintance at the most but Haru is a man after all. A man who _appreciates aesthetics_  in all aspects of life. And holy shit, Makoto is gorgeous. His shoulderblades pull taut and bulge slightly, a prelude to a firm six-pack and trim waist, down to _long, long_  legs emphasised by full-length jammers with a green v-stripe. He's completely hairless and Haru can see the small moving of his chest as he breathes.

"Haru...Haru?" Makoto's palm is suddenly in his field of vision and Haru realises with a start that he  _had_  been staring. Shy pink dusts the cheeks of the man in front of him. "Let's go?"

Little did Haru know, Makoto was staring too. His hipbones peek out from a pair of mid-length black jammers with purple at the sides. His shoulders stand in a way Makoto can only call "clean-cut"--everything about him speaks of dedication and grace, not to mention the talent that Makoto had marvelled so much at on that day and not any less now. A modest four-pack looks just right on him, with lean, compact muscles and smooth, fair skin despite being in chlorine under the sun for so much of his life. He has the ass of an athlete who still keeps up with his conditioning--round and pert and firm and _oh god_ Makoto feels sinful for even wondering how it would feel.

The pool is quiet today, with just a group of retirees leisurely swimming together. Haru falls a little behind Makoto, breathing in the familiar smell of chlorine (and okay, maybe checking out a back view). Then, it hits him.

"Makoto, could you let me see your backstroke?" 

"Huh?" Makoto can only intelligently reply from where he's testing the water with his foot. "Sorry, what?" 

"I want to see your backstroke." Haru says evenly again.

"But...but why? We could swim together instead, Haru!"

"'Cos you've seen me swim, but I've never seen you." Haru states, holding his gaze. "I just want to see two laps."

"Uh..." Makoto stalls and bashfully scratches his knuckles against the side of his head. His eyes are focusing on the pool, the starting blocks... everywhere but Haru. "Uh, but... I'm not that fast anymore, Haru."

Haru's eyes soften at the blush which had painted itself anew on Makoto's cheeks. He looks genuinely uncertain, and his toes are flexing and curling out of nervousness. It's not that he doesn't understand how Makoto feels--probably intimidated and self-conscious, swimming in front of someone who had proved his mettle at the nationals. But curiousity and just a little (very little, Haru tells himself, and for a good cause) selfishness wants to see Makoto in action to admire one more beautiful thing about him, if anything.

"It's okay," Haru replies with what he hopes is a friendly smile. "I just want to see the stroke 'cos I don't swim it."

"O-okay," Makoto relents, "right now?"

"Yeah, if you're alright with it?" Haru ducks his head down, suddenly realises that he might be forcing things a bit too much and risking the friendship. But- Makoto gets into the water without much of a splash and gets into position with a gentle smile. "I'll swim," he says lightly, "but only if you quack loud enough for me to hear as the start sound."

Haru almost splutters at the suggestion but Makoto is chuckling from the water with an innocently mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Fair enough, he supposes.

The sound that he manages to produce sounds _nothing_  like a duck and more like the audio embodiment of humiliation but it's almost worth it when Makoto giggles so hard he can't push off properly.

But when he gets into a rhythm, Haru can't help but keep his eyes on Makoto. He has a quick, rough style that splashes a bit more than usual but seems to be able to secure leads and keep them. It looks like he gives his all--a trait that Haru has always admired--believing in your stroke, believing that it will see you through and doing _your_  duty to keep form till the end. It's exciting to watch. For a guy who last swam professionally about six years ago, he's still in good shape. (Yes, he could see that through the muscles but y'know, he just needed to make sure.) Haru guesses swimming next to him must be fun, he spurs himself on with every push, quickly picking up with strong kicks once he flags and splashing, _splashing splashing_ all the way. It's a surprisingly refreshing sound to listen to again. All the times he had come to this pool by himself, the water had smoothly parted for him to pass through, so much so that he has almost forgotten what the sound of churning water sounds like. His thoughts are interrupted by Makoto gliding into the last stretch and emerging with a hopeful expression, panting and pushing his dripping fringe up. "So how did I do, senpai?" He asks cheerily, injecting the last word with a twist of slyness that just makes Haru want to roll his eyes yet laugh at the same time. 

"Well." Haru says and jumps into the water. "Very well." He tries to pretend that he's not blushing by staying under longer than he needs to and preoccupying himself with shaking out his hair when he finally appears. 

None of Haru's horrible, clammy-palmed fears come to pass in the end. They swim easily together, sometimes glancing at each other underwater as they compete, monopolizing the two right-most lanes. He gets to hear Makoto's laugh more and more--an unpretentious, bright, open sound that echoes in Haru's head and bounces around for the rest of the two hours. 

"Do you wanna go get dinner?" Haru asks cautiously as they pack up. Makoto stops folding his towel to smile again and give Haru an enthusiastic thumbs up. That's another thing that Haru likes about Makoto: he'll stop whatever he's doing and make the effort to give you his full attention as he answers. Something tells Haru it's normal Makoto he's facing, not a contrived, polite version. Something tells Haru there are no _versions_ to Makoto. 

"What do you feel like eating then?" 

"I just need coffee," Makoto replies with a dramatic sigh and the back of his hand on his forehead. "Life of Addict Makoto."

"Okay." Haru cracks an amused smile. He has been doing a lot of that recently, he notices. Especially when Tachibana Makoto makes an appearance. 

They wind up at a place that sells coffee, cake and lasagna. 

"So, Haru... what is the board like?" Makoto's eyes are serious. "Like, could you just give me a heads up so I can prepare?" 

"The board..." Haru puts down his fork, leaning back and taking a swallow of his lemon tea. "The board is a pile of shit, if you ask me." 

"Haruka!" Makoto bursts out, his face completely red. Lowering his voice, he whispers urgently, "How can you just say things like that?" 

"It's Haru," the architect narrows his blue eyes. "Ah yes, sorry Haru." Makoto apologises. "But why?"

"The chairman is thick-headed," Haru remarks. "He just wants everything to be done quickly, quickly, _as quickly as possible_ and doesn't seem to realise that his own people don't even agree about what they want. And then he keeps talking about reports when there's nothing to report."

Makoto furrows his brow and rubs his chin. "That sounds annoying... Is he the most difficult person there?" He's still phrasing his words so gently, Haru notes.

"I don't like his secretary most, actually."

"Because she just backs him up no matter what he says?" Makoto asks with a trace of mirth. "The one at my office does that too."

"Yeah she backs him up alright but you also get the feeling that she's going to throw one of her cobalt blue high heels at you if it takes too long." Haru laughs.

Makoto wants to reply but too much of his brain is occupied with the fact that Haru is laughing with his shoulders shaking, his elbow on the table with one finger on his scrunched-up nose and looking absolutely adorable. So he just says the first thing that comes into his head.

"I'm glad you'll be with me when I meet them, then."

And he might be deceiving himself, but it seems that Haru's eyes soften when he looks up at him through his lashes.

The moon is lit up like an ivory lantern in the sky as they step out, hands tucked into their pockets. There are no stars to be seen. The city feels caged in by the thousands of people pushing past each other at road crossings, yearning to be free. Haru is struck by the emptiness of a place full of artificial lights and none of wonder. He thinks, maybe life is dealing the joker to him once again. 

And by his side, Makoto glances at the sudden sadness that has stolen silently over their long shadows cast on concrete.


	4. blue, blue caravan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _oh my blue blue caravan, the highway is my great wall.  
>  for my true  
> love is a man who never existed at all.  
> oh he was a beautiful  
> fiction I invented to keep out the cold.  
> but now, my blue blue caravan, I can feel my heart growing old.  
> \- Blue Caravan, 2006_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello hello ^^ Thank you for reading thus far and for all the lovely comments that you guys have left! I'm sorry this was so long in coming -Hides behind a pile of math homework- 
> 
> Please do leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed this!!

Would he be a different person if they hadn't left him when he was nine?

The elementary boarding school building had hulked up over the grass field, big and white like a bloated whale drying out in the sun. His first thought was that it was exceptionally ugly. And the second was that he was going to have to stay there _with all the other little boys, dear_.

Sunday nights were the worst when everyone got pocket money sent to them from their parents. Haru would go with one other boy (Haru never found out his name) to the principal's office instead of the dining hall to get his, in light blue envelopes, sometimes with pastel coloured bunnies printed on them, _Nanase Haruka_  written on it in hurried script. As the years went by, he learned to ignore the cheque that his father came in to write every beginning of the school semester after patting his head once or twice. Haru swears he called him "Nanase" once without even realising it. His father's hand was always big and heavy, but strangely cold in a way, as if he had put on gloves and was disinclined to get too near him by accident.

The reports didn't really vary for the first few years. _Nanase-kun is a quiet boy, but shows a good grasp of academic work with an ability to express well-evaluated personal opinion. We look forward to more participation from him in class._  As he moved into fifth and sixth grade, the reports started adding in a line: _He shows much interest in art and drawing._

Another thing he sought refuge in was the pool that the school had. The teachers rarely let him in on his own, and the gate was too high to climb over at midnight so Haru contented himself with floating off by himself during lessons and after school training. Disregarding the rest of the kids who shrieked and paddled, Haru would drift all the way to the opposite end to start swimming laps. At first, he never thought of timing himself or competing with anyone else to see how fast he could go. But it came as a condition from the coach: Be faster than everyone else or jolly well participate in lessons. Haru hadn't said anything then, just curtly nodded and left.

He was the only one allowed to enter the regional competition a month later.

There was one flaw in his parents' evasion though--his school sent all students home in March so that annual cleaning and buying of supplies for the new term could be done.

"Haru probably thinks we abandoned him," he heard his mother whine petulantly on his way to the toilet one night. "He was ignoring me the entire way home."

Well. Haru had always known they suspect he's mute at times but it seems they think he's deaf and blind too. Ducking into a darker corner, Haru continues to eavesdrop out of pure curiosity about his parents' thoughts that had baffled him ever since day one.

"Wasn't that exactly what you wanted to do?" His father spat back full of irritation. "For all your business and _socialising_."

"I never said that! We needed to protect him!" His mother protested with a wave of her hand, immediately changing the subject. "Anyway, I've been looking online for another school and there's an academy with a swimming program so Haruka can continue doing what he likes."

"So you can dance around your boss some more?" His father raised his voice again and slapped his palm on the table. "Don't think I haven't been noticing how short your dresses have been."

"No! And don't raise your voice, that was in the past. You agreed not to bring it up again."

 _Yes, I like the water_ , Haru had stubbornly told himself in the shadowy hallway. _And I'm not Haruka._

Deciding he had heard enough, he tip-toed back into bed, where he pressed his lips together so hard that it felt for a moment like all the blood had drained right out of them. 

In junior high school, Haru was known as the loner who talked to the pool. 

He knew he was difficult next to other kids. He didn't talk or smile or give cutesy answers when adults tried to make friends with him. It's not that he didn't understand what they want. It's just that he either froze up when these situations arise or didn't see a reaction to be necessary. Was being quiet so bad? His parents would tease him when he scanned and emailed his record card to them, asking if he was sure there was anything of such calibre in his head.

Quiet meant stubborn, reclusive. It meant that there was probably nothing going on his mind just because he didn't see the need to share it with the rest of the world. _Why can't you just open you mouth, Haruka?_ had been repeated to him in exasperated, scolding pleas. Quiet meant "Do you have any friends in school, Haruka?".

But on the first day of high school, a boy with light blue hair had come up to him after swim PE and introduced himself without preamble, without hesitation. "I'm Hirose," he announced cheerfully, holding his hand out for Haru to shake. "Do you wanna sit together for lunch?"

And that was the first time Haru had let himself be led to the canteen. Hirose played football, and he was aiming to be the team's goalkeeper, he said. He was spectacularly bad at math but quite on the other side of the extreme for Japanese history, rattling off the names of generals and emperors like nobody's business on their walks to the train station.

Haru liked his company. He was confident, unafraid to make mistakes and laugh at himself. Being less chatty was never a problem, because Hirose always found a way to fill the silence. From changing his hairstyle every few months to falling asleep in algebra, he was interesting, always moving and pulling Haru along. He was okay with that. 

He let his guard down, learned to laugh whenever he liked without thinking if it was appropriate. Hirose would sneak snacks into their dorm late at night and the two of them would sit on the top floor's stairwell just talking and talking. Hirose had a big family like Haru did and he always went back for New Years but he always described it as meeting a bunch of people you don't know who don't remember you exist in the first place. Haru had said he'd rather have that than an email telling him where his parents were with "Hope you're studying hard and doing well" tacked on at the end. And Hirose would sling an arm around his shoulder, squeezing him and telling him that his family was missing out. 

Haru liked their friendship. After trial and error attempts in the search bar and reading late into the night to find out if it was normal not to be excited by girls like other boys were, the only person he could imagine himself with was Hirose--Hirose with his laugh showing all his teeth, his arms full of cream bread that they weren't supposed to eat because of the first-year swimmers' food ban, leaving his light blue fringe a little too long sometimes that it brushed Haru's shoulder when he leant over to ask about homework or swimming. Hirose was always asking questions because he never paid attention. But it was okay, Hirose did the talking for both of them, and Haru did the listening. Sometimes, Hirose talked more than Haru liked to listen to but he figured it was a small price to pay for the company of his best friend.

Hirose made Haru feel like the world was light blue instead of black, that they didn't need to fit into wherever they were.

He did have other friends at the side, but people generally liked other people who could flatter the girls, laugh loudly and walk around shirtless in the summer. They liked people who boasted about getting 'A's without studying even though everyone would know they did it secretly at night after all the partying. People liked _fun_ , but to Haru, it felt false. It felt like everyone who talked to him expected some kind of behaviour just because he was an athlete or an artist which still doesn't make sense because people are supposed to like how you already are before they befriend you right?

A girl had even gone so far as to say that his looks were a waste on someone like him. He raised his eyebrows and gazed coolly at her until she flinched and sashayed away with a roll of her eyes. But it made him wonder: how exactly was he supposed to change to fit everybody he met? 

As he walked closer to his locker one day, he realised that it was wide open, the door swinging on its hinges. Frantically checking through everything, Haru heaved a sigh of relief when he confirmed nothing was missing. He grabbed his Biology textbook and ran to class, dismissing the incident as the lock giving way or someone accidentally knocking into it. They were pretty old after all. 

He slid into his seat just as the teacher walked in calling out along the way, "Okay class, open your textbooks to the chapter on the digestive system." 

Flipping past acknowledgements to the contents page to check the page number, Haru felt a bump through the paper. When he turned the page, a silver foil package was taped on the list, with words scribbled in black marker "AT LEAST USE THIS, YOU BASTARD". 

***

"Hiro," Haru approached the group of boys that his best friend recently seemed to be hanging around more with. He was greeted with a subtle angling away of Hirose's back and an exaggerated smile directed at another classmate. "Are we going for lunch?" He tried again. But light blue eyes turned to gaze emptily straight through him. Like a wall, they got up and walked out of the classroom, volume increasing all the way. 

Eating lunch in the canteen alone for the first time in so long was more difficult than Haru anticipated. Everyone else seemed to be clearing a one table radius around him, the sound of friendly laughter around him echoing and echoing until it made him sick. So he started eating by the pool, with his pants rolled up and feet gently kicking in the water to calm his racing heart. What had he done wrong? Why was Hirose acting like this?

Whispering accompanied his back wherever he went. There were nights when Haru allowed himself to cry into his pillow in jerky, heaving sobs out of pure frustration. It was one thing to be ignored, as he had been for most of his life,  but another to be suddenly ignored overnight with no explanation whatsoever by the person he trusted the most. It didn't matter what other people thought of him, but Hirose--the thought that he might have hurt him while remaining entirely oblivious nagged at the back of his mind, making him feel unbearably guilty.

For the next two months, he had walked around with a stone tied around his heart, sinking deeper and deeper into his thoughts till he forgot to eat or get out of the bath sometimes. It seemed as if his mind had plateaued--he did his assignments mechanically, observed a rule of going to bed by 11 every night and drank a cup of tea with milk in the morning. But there was a strangely dead feeling spiked by hurt every time he came into contact with another person, much scarier than his usual indifference to everything else other than swimming and drawing. 

Rin, though, had surprised him. One day after practice, the redhead had caught his arm just as he was leaving. (He no longer showered in the locker rooms because try as he might, he couldn't ignore the bubble of strained silence that surrounded him in the middle of jokes and laughter.) "Nanase." Rin looked torn yet determined at the same time. "I need to talk to you." 

At the surprise of having someone actually approach him first for three months, and with that person being none other than loud, boisterous Matsuoka who seemed to have made a complete turn of character, he allowed himself to be led away into a corner tucked away from the pool.

"So uh..." Rin awkwardly started and put his hands on his hips, looking down and shuffling his feet. "Hirose is ignoring you right?" Haru cocked his head to one side, wondering where this was going.

"I thought you have the right to know" Rin continued, "it's not fair to carry on like this."

Haru started to feel nervousness and fear prickle at the bottom of his spine. Carry on like what? With the silence? With the sneers that haunted him even as he lay alone at night?

"Tada Inari from 3-C actually likes you," he bites his lip and Haru wonders how that even fits into anything. "But Hirose has had a crush on her since year one and..." Rin trails off, looking frustrated as if he gets how nonsensical and childish this is.

"And?" Haru

"He's been going around telling people that you're pulling her along on a string and... how do I say this, Nanase," Looking away from him with his mouth twisted in a grimace, Rin takes a deep breath. "He says you're fucking her for fun with no real plans for a relationship, basically."

So that's how it was. All the pieces clicked -- the sense that people were judging him for no ordinary crime, how all the girls looked at him with disdain in their eyes, in the way they obviously turned their heads away once he walked down the corridor. The condom. A cold wave of disbelief washed over his entire being, turning his fingers into ice as betrayal flooded his heart. Hirose? Really?

"Why don't people ask Tada about it directly then?" Haru asks spitefully before he can control himself.

"They do," Rin replies, shrugging a shoulder. "But you should know--people ask 'Are you screwing with Nanase', not 'Is he breaking your heart'."

"And she just tells a lie?" Lying to save your skin, that Haru could understand. But conjuring facts out of thin air to feed your infatuation? That was ridiculous.

It was a week before Haru managed to corner Hirose alone in the classroom.

"What's going on?" He demanded in a low tone, trying to keep himself in check.

"What, about Tada? You finally found out?" Hirose hissed while gripping so tightly onto the window grilles Haru could see his knuckles whitening. "Look Haru, you don't even try okay! And I've been trying and trying, getting into one thing after another just to do well and impress her and there you go, blowing all my chances! You don't even want her, do you?"

"But I can't control how she feels!" Haru burst out in a fit of shock and rage himself. "It's not my fault that she doesn't like you, or that she likes me or that she'll like someone else in the future, Hiro."

"Stop calling me that," he turned away.

"Hirose-"

"Anyway, what's done is done, I can't undo it even if I wanted to," Hirose retorted, cutting him off and running out of the classroom, leaving Haru alone in the yellowing of the evening. That was it. No apologies, no remorse, almost as if Haru never meant anything to him from the start. 

Haru still remembers that feeling of standing in a spotlight while the dark laughed around him. He had always chosen to see past Hirose's selfish streak that had reared its head more than once in their friendship, dismissing it as a natural character flaw. He had thought that they could deal with it later, later.

Until there were no more laters to wait for.

Hanging around with Rin instead had been difficult at first. Haru saw every glance, every text as pity and for a while, even considered asking for a transfer and giving up swimming altogether. But when he wandered down to the pool in lonely afternoons, the cool water lapped at the sides as if welcoming him. Then he'd remember, that the water was the only thing--only one, that allowed him to be who he wanted to be. There was no mask needed, or a careful practicing of a stock smile in front of the mirror. It was just him, and the water, and the feeling of it against his skin, pressing on his eyes and filling all the gaps in his heart. 

How could he ever leave?

So instead of simply using his studies as a means to vent his frustration, he went to the pool more and more to cool down. Apart from practice four times a week, Haru was in the pool twice a day most of the time. During lunch, between lessons, sometimes even skipping the classes he did well in without paying attention anyway to be with the water. 

All those laps unconsciously did their work, and Haru found himself outpacing everyone in the swim club in half a year. When he told himself _faster, faster_ , it would work--his body always listening to what he wanted. The coach started taking him out of the pool and to the gym, telling him that he could get even better with conditioning rather than endless practice.

On nights when he went to bed with a heavy heart, his dreams were filled with the feeling of another boy's skin against his, the unmistakable male timbre in shy, innocent moans muffled against the line where his hips met his thighs. Calloused fingers stroking comfortingly down his chest and unscented lips save for the clean, refreshing hint of soap and shaving cream whispering his name with love, telling him that everything was alright, that he'd get through everything sooner or later.

He had once woken up with tears still pooling in his eyes from the aching emptiness of _wanting_ someone. A boy to hold and be held by, who understood how confusing it was to love in this part of the world. Someone to walk beside, to fall asleep next to, someone who would talk to him about music, and decorations he saw on the street, ate with him and waited up till he came back to his dorm.

When he won his final race, that was it. It felt like the relief that comes from paying back a favour.

But somehow, it still felt like he was all alone.


	5. landsailor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _landsailor  
>  landsailor, sail on time  
> rain or shine, I know you can  
> \- Landsailor, 2013_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry that the chapter is a little short this time but I've got a longer one prepped for the next installment :) Thank you all again for just being here to read this, your lovely kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions and comments--they really make my day! 
> 
> That being said, what am I doing at 1:30 in the morning when I have a race and history test tomorrow -.- I'm proud of my priorities and hope they make you happy too lols

He is looking sharp in a black suit, shirt unbuttoned at the collar and those _damn cuffs_ bordering his blazer sleeves. This man probably looks good no matter what he wears. But there are more pressing matters at hand. Next to him, Makoto is being scrutinised in the most obvious, petty ways possible, much like his first meeting with this board. 

"I think understatement would be a good way to go especially if functions are going to be held at night with full length windows." Makoto maintains, making a point Haru is pretty sure he has brought up before.

"Mm," the chairman says again before turning to Haru, with a cocky look in his eye like he expects him to back up the board's opinion. "But it's not outstanding, not memorable, Tachibana. I really suggest you rework your designs." Resting his elbows contentedly on the arms of the chair, he practically purrs out condescendingly, "What does Nanase think?"

Haru returns his smirk with a frosty look of his own. He's had enough of the board rejecting ideas and not offering any concrete ones of their own. If it was anyone else getting pushed around,he probably would have just tried to stay out of the way and let them thrash it out but seeing sincere, honest, happy Makoto being put in a spot the entire morning stirs a cold force within him. "I agree with Tachibana-san, sir." The smooth, direct challenge in his voice almost throws himself off. "If you want something changed, you might like to suggest something specific?"

"Well, I could always-" Makoto tries again timidly but Haru cuts him off without the bat of an eyelid.

"If you want it to be more flamboyant, I'm sure we can work something out while keeping some of the original concepts later." Haru asserts. "May I suggest that we break for lunch though?" Despite his non-confrontational style, there are times when Haru knows exactly what he wants and doesn't hold back on curt professionalism. Right now, what he wants is for Makoto to be able to keep at least half of his hard work without compromising on a design that would make him uncomfortable. (And food because they don't even offer snacks with the coffee) Yeah, the customer comes first and there are times when you need to value your job more than your own preferences but Haru himself knows the torture of having to see something you don't like day after day and trying to tell yourself that it's beautiful. It just doesn't work, and it's not the way artists can stand to work. 

Once they're alone with bento sets in front of them, Haru stops trying to hold back, stops trying to pretend that seeing Makoto's eyes droop with discouragement makes his heart clench and go out to the man. 

"Makoto," he sighs.

"It's okay Haru, the ideas-they can always be changed-I don't... I don't want to make them angry again Haru," it's the second calling of his name that helps Haru confirm his instincts. Touching Makoto's forearm gently across the table, Haru says with a frown "You don't have to force yourself to do exactly what they want, Makoto." He's concentrating on softening his tone, making sure that none of his frustration seeps out to make Makoto even sadder than he is. "As much as they want you to to compromise, they frankly have horrible ideas."

Makoto cracks a small amused smile. "He wanted glitter wallpaper, remember?"

"Like a flat disco ball" Haru mocks, air quoting. 

"You really think my ideas are better?" Makoto asks tentatively after he's done muffling his laughter behind his hand, like he's not used to being sure that he's better than someone else _._ Haru is all too ready to oblige his need for a second opinion. 

"Yeah," Haru replies nonchalantly. "Maybe you could do feature walls with your original ideas?" It's not a bad idea actually, the interior is supposed to be eclectically artistic after all. And Haru is sure Makoto will be able to pull it off. (He's more than happy to offer help if Makoto needed it... to finish the project on time... yeah (helping requires time and talking and discussion and looking at him more and seeing those green eyes framed by black glasses and buying him coffee, hopefully making him laugh along the way))

"But they're expensive, Haru!" Makoto exclaims, scandalized. "I couldn't!"

"So?" Haru retaliates, "they have a shit ton of money, use it."

"So mean," Makoto says sulkily but half-laughing all the same. "I'm not as heartless as you are, Haru."

"Whatever," Haru brushes it off. "I just don't want you to change it that much." He adds a moment later, in a quieter tone. Makoto cups his chin thoughtfully in his hands with his elbows on the table. "I'll try," he murmurs, but he still looks unsure and Haru doesn't want him going back into that conference so beaten down.

"I like your designs," Haru repeats more forcefully, "Don't change them. The board's got more money than it does common sense." 

Makoto's snort of laughter is more than enough to calm his nerves. Fingers crossed, Haru sends a prayer to the clouds that if Makoto wasn't his soulmate after all (he really really hopes he is but there's hardly any way of making sure other than the way he's kinda scared of right now), he'd at least be allowed to stay by his side as a friend because all he can think of is protecting him, backing him up and making him smile. 

"I can cut down a little bit on the outside so you have more to work with," Haru mumbles almost inaudibly as they shrug on their blazers to enter the conference room again. He isn't sure if he actually wants Makoto to hear him because it's _so embarrassing_ and totally cramping his style. But Makoto hears enough to squeeze his shoulder and whisper "Okay" as they walk back in together.

Haru has to consciously remind himself to address Makoto as 'Tachibana-san' after that.


	6. strange how you fit into me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _strange how I fit into you  
>  there’s a distance erased with the greatest of ease  
> strange how you fit into me  
> a gentle warmth filling the deepest of needs  
> \- Eric's Song, 2002_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey people! Here's the next update of the work, hope you enjoy it! :) Please do leave comments and kudos (they are the best I swear all the people who comment are so cute), subscribe if you'd like to be reminded of the next time these two dorks get up to stuff hahaha

**_12:20:46 To: Matsuoka Rin_**  
Do you want to watch a movie or something?

Haru had woken up late to a nice breezy, sunny day--the kind that allows you out with two layers and maybe an extra jacket. He's itching to get out of his apartment and do something different and would have suggested swimming but Rin had sternly told him in no uncertain terms: _Not everyone enjoys five consecutive trips to the pool, Haru._ So he had tried to come up with something marginally more social.

When Rin doesn't reply in the next ten minutes, Haru starts getting restless. His laptop is sitting in plain sight on the coffee table but Haru really has no heart to open it now. He could probably watch a movie online on his own, get some snacks and settle in for a lazy day... But the day would be numb too, and the weather is much too good to waste. Haru has an unscratchable itch in him to get out, feel the wind and move among traffic, breathe in the cold.

 ** _13:00:16 To: Haru_**  
Maybe another day? Sorry Haru, but Sou asked me out today a while ago!

Right... Yamazaki. He and his friend's boyfriend are still on family-name terms, the big guy with his teal eyes putting him off at first with his towering presence and steely character but they've learnt to accommodate each other along the way (after many nights of Rin whining and wringing his hands to Haru, and mild scolding of Sou with repetitions of "that's just how Haru is!" when he got back to his dorm room). Haru admits now, that Sousuke is the perfect person to ground and balance unpredictable, fiercely competitive Rin, (surprise, surprise) who seems to be capable of running between two different emotional extremes within five minutes. Sousuke tends to brood a little more than express, speaks slower, and thinks more before he does things. Haru is convinced that Sousuke might probably be the only person he knows among their circle of mutual friends that actually _gets_ Rin and isn't afraid to point out his flaws or praise him when he needs it.

And Rin is head over heels in love with the man, in his absolute, passionate, encompassing way. That's fine by Haru, but on days like today, it's like a calendar alarm reminding him that he wants to find love too.

 _ **14:02:55 To:**_ _ **Matsuoka**_ _ **Rin**_  
Oh, alright then.

After a total of three swimming trips together, Haru guesses Makoto wouldn't run from him screaming if he spontaneously suggested an outing, would he?

 ** _14:15:34 To: Tachibana Makoto_**  
Are you free today?

 ** _14:20:56 To: Nanase Haruka_**  
Yeah, why? :) Is it something for work?

 ** _14:22:02 To: Tachibana Makoto_**  
Do you want to go out somewhere together? Like now, today.

Haru realises he didn't answer the question directly, but he ignores it and presses send.

 ** _14:23:15 To: Nanase Haruka_**  
Yes, sure! :) Where should I meet you?

Haru stares at his phone in happy disbelief. They're going out. Together. (Makoto must surely know that "somewhere" doesn't entail swimming, otherwise Haru would have asked straight to the point.) Hooray for all the experience he had gained talking like an acceptably approachable person.

 ** _14:25:45 To: Tachibana Makoto_**  
We could go the aquarium in town? They have some new exhibition. I'll send you a screenshot of directions. 

The aquarium is holding a special exhibition on deep sea fish. Haru thinks he sees Makoto do a double take and adjust his specs when he first sees the poster but he's back to his smiling, upbeat self a moment later that Haru thinks he might have been reading too much into the situation. The halls are dark, with lights wavering faintly along the walls and echoes that really make them feel like they're actually walking on the ocean floor. Specimens of fine-boned, bleached-white deep-sea fish are placed in glass cases, their empty ete sockets atop their large fangs sending an eerie threat. The walls are full of infographics, charts and facts along with life-sized photos of specimens. Jellyfish pulse slowly in lighted tanks, the rising bubbles sending shivers down both their spines with their sinister transcendence.

Haru checks his watch. they have five minutes to spare before the second last scheduled film created specially for this exhibition shows. "Makoto, we should go, the show is starting." 

"Oh, okay!" 

Haru's brain stops working the second he sees the sitting arrangements. Large beanbags on the floor, facing the large screen that takes up the entire wall are obviously meant for two people and the thought of sitting on something so soft and comfortable right next to Makoto near is just... screw this. But when he looks up at Makoto for confirmation before they step together into the dark room, all he sees is a dependable smile, none of the panic that's racing through his heart and he thinks it's probably quite impossible for him to mess up anything with Makoto there to ground him. 

They settle themselves into a beanbag right in the centre of the room, in the second row so they don't have to crane their necks uncomfortably to see the whole screen. They're so close that Makoto can faintly hear Haru's breathing quicken as the blank screen transforms into the ocean, bottomless blue water shot through with the faintest beams of sunlight. Ominous piano music starts to sound and words appear in the middle: "Carnivores of the Deep". _Carnivores. Dark water. Scary creatures, where we can't see them, where we can't swim away from them. The water crashing, swallowing up everything in it, dragging the old fisherman and his boat down, the wind howling over his cries for help, where Makoto couldn't help him or save him. Sleeping peacefully in his bed throughout the storm, while his friend drowns... the cold monks in white moving in rows on the road, chanting, sending him off as best as they can but Makoto just wants him back, back... the goldfish..._

"Makoto," Haru's quiet whisper startles him out of his thoughts. "Are you okay?" 

"Mm?" Makoto abruptly turns and tries to concentrate all his attention towards Haru, away from the screen so he won't be scared. "Uh yeah... I'm fine, just spaced out for a while there," he says, squinting,  but Haru doesn't look convinced so he adds in a lighter tone, "the angler fish is really creepy though." 

"Scared?" Haru asks playfully but before Makoto can reply, he's absorbed in the film again. Makoto wants to tell him, to say _you have no idea,_  scoot nearer, hold on to a little bit of his shirt, anything that will draw the two of them closer so his head can be filled with thoughts of how warm Haru is, so he doesn't feel like a victim of the past again. 

The film finally ends and they head out to the gift shop where the lights are much brighter and the deepest real water available is the petting aquarium next to it for kids, more like the pool that Makoto feels at home in and not the ocean that lurks outside. Why can't his memories of the sea be beautiful and clear instead of a mess of black and murky white? He feels silly for letting something that happened so long ago affect him, but every time he sees the ocean, shivers still run up his spine and he has to turn away. 

Something soft pokes his back. The taller man turns around to find Haru holding up an angler fish soft toy in dark blue and yellow, his eyes teasing with ill-disguised mirth.

"Haru!" Makoto cries out, trying to still his racing heart, taking the soft toy from him and putting it back on the shelf. "You're so mean!" 

"It has plushy teeth," Haru observes, thoughtfully poking the velvety white points, seemingly unaffected by his own unkindness.

"The teeth are the point, Haru, not the plush please." Makoto says in a huff. Haru doesn't say anything, just gives him a smile that's so subtly cheeky Makoto can't help but return it even though his fingers are twisting together at his side.

Haru landed up getting a dark turquoise notebook with water-designed pages. "For taking notes at the meeting," he reasoned and Makoto honestly thought he could always use his laptop instead, not to mention that the pages are blank, not lined, but Haru looked adorable in his own world, tracing lines on the paper with his finger which Makoto was quite sure mimics drawing more than writing that he couldn't find the heart to.

Neon signs show up clearly against the darkened sky when they leave.

"Are you hungry?" The question sounds rhetorical to Makoto. He's about to ask Haru for food suggestions, but Haru continues suddenly, "I could... uh, cook?... Back at my place?"

He is holding his breath. Is he being too pushy? Oh... what if Makoto is thinking about the possibility of food poisoning? Haru doesn't have a food hygiene cert after all... (what even?) Or is Makoto apprehensive about coming to his apartment?

"Really?" Makoto looks a little thrown off. Haru isn't surprised, but he tries to keep himself casual, down to his hands hanging just _so candidly, good job_ out of his pockets. "Yeah." 

White walls. Traditional paper screen doors divided into squares by wooden lattices, the door of Haru's bedroom left open so Makoto sneaks a peek as he crosses over to the hall. Haru's bed is obviously only meant for one person, and on the wall next to the bed hangs a canvas painting of a wave caught mid-crest in layers of grey, white, and blue that make Makoto feel like he's right next to the roar and rush of the water once he sees it. He doesn't know what to feel though: the faint beats of nervousness still flicker in his chest, but the sheer energy of the picture wants him to get closer, to know the water better, to feel it for himself and know that it's the vast ocean that he's being allowed to touch. The bed is for one, the duvet a mellow shade of charcoal gray against plain white sheets and pillowcases with light blue whales printed on them. So Haru lives alone. _Phew_ (he totally has the right to feel relieved)

The sofa in the hall is small and elegant, just big enough for two people with a woven beige backrest and a flat, rectangular cushion seat in a light pistachio green. The apartment is floored in a light birch that opens up the space, contrasting with the dark blue and white tiles in the kitchen. Everything is neat and tidy, with the only exception of Haru's laptop and a bunch of papers scattered on the table which Makoto presumes are related to the project. 

He wanders into the kitchen where Haru is standing in front of his fridge, assessing its contents with his eyebrows scrunched together. "Do you need help?" He supposes it's the only courteous thing to do. Standing in the doorway, he notices that utensils, pots, pans, everything is so immaculately organised that he instantly feels ashamed about the state of his own kitchen (which is immaculately organised too... because there's nothing in it other than a stove and a fridge aha shh).

"No it's fine," Haru turns to face him while opening a bottom drawer with his foot. "You can sit outside and relax first, dinner will be ready soon." As soon as Makoto makes an affirmative sound and wanders back out into the hall, Haru actually kicks himself. He should have let him help dammit even if he didn't actually _need_ help because Makoto would have to ask him where things are, maybe brush past him in the narrow space... instead, Haru hears him softly humming outside instead of beside him.

"Hey Haru, there's a convenience store across the road right?" Makoto's voice filters in from the hall a while later. "I think I saw it on the way here."

"Yeah, directly opposite," Haru replies, emerging from the kitchen, apron around his waist and spoon in hand. "Do you need something?"

"Uhm, yeah, I'll just be five minutes?"

Locking the door behind Makoto, Haru wonders, what could he possibly want from the convenience store just before dinner? ... What do they sell again? _Condoms,_ his mind loudly (rudely) supplies but he tells it to shut up and go back to wallow in self pity that _he_ has never actually bought condoms from a convenience store before because he's never had a chance to use them. While ignoring the possibility that Makoto kept one in his wallet for pretty girls, of course.

The doorbell rings fifteen minutes later and Makoto is standing outside with a plastic bag (Definitely too big for something uhh... personal) clutched in his left hand with the other in his jacket pocket. He raises the bag when Haru throws him a questioning look while getting the keys. "Ice-cream, Haru!" He says excitedly with a hopeful smile, the warm green of his eyes glowing even more than usual. "For dessert."

"You didn't have to," Haru mumbles as Makoto takes off his shoes inside.

"Ah, it's the least I could do, with you cooking dinner."

"I bought the box with two flavours... In case I guessed your preference wrongly," Makoto laughs a little self consciously. He seriously hopes that what he thought were pretty neutral flavours hadn't both gone wrong. "There's blackforest and strawberry shortcake." 

"I like blackforest," Haru says, still absorbed in scanning the descriptions on the box. 

"Ah, that's good then." Makoto silently heaves a sigh of relief. "I'll have the strawberry." 

"Do you like strawberry?" Haru's offhand question seems to hold more than the usual touch of concern. 

"Yeah I like all fruit flavours, so it's fine!" Makoto manages to say quickly without stumbling. Is Haru aware of how flustered and over-eager he makes him? The smaller man seems not to notice though, as he heads back into the kitchen to put the ice cream in the freezer.

"You can take a seat first, dinner's almost ready."

Makoto can't remember the last time he ate such good home-cooked food ever since he moved to Tokyo. He makes that quite clear to Haru, with "This is really good" every time he tries another of the four dishes on the table. Haru just looks down at his chopsticks trying not to acknowledge every single compliment but a slight smile lingers in his eyes all the same.

"How did you manage to get everything out so fast, Haru?" Makoto exclaims admiringly between bites. "You didn't even have to buy ingredients or anything..."

"I keep some stuff in my fridge most of the time," Haru replies calmly.

Makoto props his elbows on the table and leans his head on his palm. "So you just think of dishes on the spot? I wish I could be like that."

"You don't cook?" Haru inquires with an arch of his eyebrow and Makoto's hand falls, back straightening and feeling dreadfully inadequate. He blinks a few times and stammers. "I... no-not very well."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way," Haru starts, his voice cracking a little out of guilt. _Nanase Haruka, literally for your own good, think before you speak!_ "I was just thinking, uh... since we'll be spending quite a lot of time together especially after the board meeting you could... come over again some time? For meals?"

"Ah, but wouldn't it be inconvenient for you Haru? You have work to do too y'know..." Makoto says uncertainly.

"I still need to eat either way," Haru says without meeting his eye, his head ducked to the side so his fringe dips a little lower. Awkwardness just radiates from him, but it's _perfect_. He still can't get over the fact that this is Nanase Haruka inviting him out, wanting to spend time with him, asking him to come over. He might have had a few daydreams in the past of the lithe, fair swimmer--how he might catch his attention if he ever bumped into him on the street, how to phrase an introduction so that Nanase-san might just think of him a second time after they bid a polite goodbye... their partially coming true is almost more than he can grasp. The man is sitting opposite him in a t-shirt, not swimming trunks or a suit. They're together without obligation, without a professional shadow forcing them to hide their smiles or feelings, without the pressure of competition or the hierarchy of nationals. It's just two friends--can Makoto start calling him a friend now?--spending time with each other because they want to. Hell, Makoto wants to more than he thinks is good for him. 

Well shit, if Makoto wasn't freaked out before, Haru thinks he's has certainly gone and done it now. He wishes he could be less restricting of himself, wishes he could know how to express and say what he truly feels to a friend, not a colleague. Makoto probably thinks he's taking too much liberty with their new acquaintance, or finding some way to politely reject him because he already has someone at home to cook for him, to dish out adoring smiles and banter playfully with him the way he wants to properly know how. But-

"Alright then, thanks in advance!" A sunny smile is directed Haru's way and Makoto catches a glimpse of Haru's ears turning pink, making him smile even wider.

"I'll get the ice cream," Haru says a little too quickly. He makes his escape to the kitchen but Makoto doesn't notice, his attention all on Haru's beautiful, beautiful legs as they emerge from under the table.


	7. you feel the echo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _detect my sudden existence on your sonar  
>  you feel the echo  
> \- Never Look Away, 2013_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!! I'm so sorry that this took such a long time to get up but I am trying my best, I swear. This installment is a little bit short because I wanted to separate Makoto and Haru's perspectives of the same event but the next one will be up as soon as possible. Thanks for reading!! <3

Haru returns with the box, turning it over and inquiring, "You bought mini cones?" "Yeah, I thought they'd be more fun to eat," Makoto replies, rubbing his neck bashfully. Does he like them?

"They are," Haru agrees with a small smile. "Strawberry for you right?"

When they're settled with the cold sweet treats in hand, Haru breaks the silence. "Thanks for coming with me today," he says in a low voice. "It was fun... seeing everything."

Makoto hastily licks up the tiny trail of ice cream melting down his cone. "You don't have to thank me, Haru." Deciding that being with Haru again made the ocean not so bad after all, he tells a half truth with a smile. "It was fun for me too."

"Really?" Haru's eyes are big and blue, searching him. "You were really okay with it right?"

Makoto's heart pangs a little. Was he that obvious in the theatre? The fact that a childhood fear can affect this friendship so far into the future scares him even more. What does it say about him? That he can't overcome a little early trauma? That he has to spend the rest of his life in its shadow? It's silly but so, so real and Makoto feels like he might shrink. Granted, part of his reason for settling in Tokyo was to avoid feeling the sea spray every single day on his way home and after spending so long away from it, he should be braver right? What would Haru--anyone think if they saw the mess of nightmares still hiding in his secrets?

Haru is watching his friend across the table. He's too quiet for too long and multiple emotions flicker through his green eyes at a mile a minute. Haru is having trouble deciphering them all but he's pretty sure he spots fear... and hesitation. But why? Was there something Makoto was genuinely afraid of in the aquarium? Or something he doesn't want to tell him? Could all this be his fault somehow?

"Makoto," he calls again, lifted into a question at the end. Makoto tries to look straight at him and say the usual reassuring things that even he himself can believe for a little while sometimes--"It's okay", "Don't worry about me", "I'm fine, just a bit tired" but when Haru searches him so intently, his gaze roaming over Makoto's face like he can read his confusion, he feels like he can't pretend anymore.

 _Haru is a good person_ , "Haru, I-"

Haru doesn't impatiently cut in with "uh huh?" or "what?", just sits there quietly waiting for him to signal that he's done talking. He's the best listener Makoto has seen in his life--impressive, for the amount of influence and success he must have had throughout his life. (Yes okay, Makoto admits that Google is a wonderful thing especially when the person is slightly famous) He's not demanding or pushy, his entire body language is alert and attentive, curious without intention to pry. It gives Makoto the confidence to say what he should have admitted out loud to himself a long time ago.

"I'm scared of the ocean, actually." There, It's out. Will Haru look at him differently now? He seems to love the water so much and he's such a good swimmer... surely he wouldn't feel threatened the way Makoto does? Was it right to tell him? He doesn't dare to look up, keeping his eyes trained on a speck in the wood grain of the table in front of him, swallowing hard.

Haru takes a while to choose his words. "I'm... I'm really sorry for teasing you about the angler fish..." He finally says wjth a furrow of his brow, eyes wide with concern. He doesn't say 'I shouldn't have brought you' or unnecessarily blamed himself which would have just made everything worse. Haru looks calm on the surface but Makoto can see a swirl of uncertainty in his eyes. Managing a small smile, he says something that he probably would never have dared to voice if they weren't alone, quiet in Haru's living room. "It's okay... I-I'm glad you were there... with m-me," he stammers out and blushes so hard he feels like his hair will spontaneously combust within the next minute.

But Haru doesn't bat an eyelid. "I'm glad too." He answers gently. Makoto braces himself for the question that is sure to come, that he has never actually answered. He's not sure if he'll actually be able to get everything out coherently or just land up embarrassing himself further.

"So. Where do you live, Makoto?" Haru's voice turns clearly, beautifully into a change of subject.

"Huh?"

"Where do you stay?" Haru repeats himself. "Is it near a train station?"

"Ah," Makoto lets out a mild chuckle. "It's so coincidental... I actually live near your office." As Haru's raises his eyebrows and starts a little in disbelief, he adds, "About 10 minutes walk away."

"Hmm," Haru seems to say more to himself than to him. "So how long do you take to get to your office in the morning?"

"Um... about an hour?" Makoto purses his lips. "If I manage to catch the train."

"You should just crash my place then," Haru remarks with a laugh and the spark in his eyes that Makoto had seen in the aquarium. "We have computers and coffee in the pantry, that's all you need right?"

The mood is instantly lifted.

"Good morning sir, requesting permission to squeeze into Nanase-san's workspace for improved cooperation." Makoto mimics poking his head into a doorway and jokes back.

Haru laughs a litle at that. "I honestly wouldn't mind." 

Makoto hums a little, finishing off the cone. "We would go swimming afterwards." And for a little while, he can actually see himself doing this for the rest of his life, having Haru across the table, his tongue poking out slowly and daintily to eat convenience store ice-cream like he's in a parlour with napkins and old-fashioned fans--having Haru to talk to, and confide in, to go to him for hugs and strength when he needs them and getting to know more about what makes up the enigmatic swimmer that astounded scouts from the most prestigious schools at his peak. He thinks he could never be tired of looking at Haru, never be tired of hearing him laugh, or speak or think. 

It's ridiculous, isn't it? How long have they known each other? The universe forbid, _Haru might be straight after all_. 

But Haru just nods wisely, his black fringe falling a little into his eyes. "Every single day," he breathes out. 


	8. I will never look away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I want your warm bright eyes  
>  to come back to me  
> and hold on to me  
> you know I won’t lie  
> I will never look away  
> \- Never Look Away, 2013_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised fast, didn't I? :) Hope you enjoy hehe

Haru wonders why Makoto is so afraid of the ocean when he's been swimming for so long. Water is pretty much the same to him, providing calm and satisfaction regardless of the depth or quantity. But Haru had felt nervousness practically emanating from the other man in waves, both in the theatre and across the table. Could it be because... of something in the ocean? Or a bad experience? He still tries to avoid dark hallways because they make him panic after all so he totally gets it. 

Makoto had looked so vulnerable, clutching his mini cone (which would be funny and cute in any other context but at that time it looked like a symbol of the part of him that never grew up out of the terror). Haru knows it's difficult admitting to things--he rarely does it, even with Rin. It's just not a natural inclination with him to bare his private thoughts, to justify his actions for others to understand (Much unlike the redhead who seems to have no difficulties expressing clearly what he feels or thinks. Haru still remembers the night Rin had called him for 'relationship advice'. Rin hadn't even bothered with context, simply bursting out with "I'm in love with Sousuke, shit!" once Haru had picked up the phone. He can't imagine himself ever saying such things in his head, much less out loud to someone else. But then again, he's never had the occasion to need them. Not after Hiro.)

Even as he had stood at the doorway of his house sending Makoto off, he still felt a strange desire to protect him from everything that made him scared or worried in this world. The night is dark, and the street lamp near the road flickers--Haru had almost offered to walk him down just to make sure he's as safe as he can make him. 

But that would have been too forward. And besides, Makoto is bigger and most likely stronger than him so he wouldn't make a difference. Right.

The clock ticks softly on the wall, segmenting Haru's thoughts and lulling him into a state of contemplation about _himself_ , which he doesn't allow very often. He knows he's lonely, but he's squashed it under years of _I've got this_ until it's become more of an acknowledgement than an actual feeling. It would be nice, surely, to have someone to hold and talk to, someone to protect and be protected by, who catches your eye when you stare at him. Haru has seen how Rin and Sousuke can fight, how angry it can get until sometimes it feels like the two of them might splinter apart but it never happens. No matter how many times Sousuke texts him asking him to talk sense into his friend, they always make up in the end, apologising (not always willingly but still) and settling back down to share the washing machine again after about a week. Rin calls it love. 

Haru had called it something he's never had. 

But when Makoto showed up in that suit in the coffee shop, all awkward and adorable, shy yet thrillingly intimidating, Haru realises that was the point where he started thinking it as something he wanted to have. Very much. In a certain direction. 

Could this be love? He has nothing really to compare it by. 

All the same, he reaches out for his phone from the couch and does the only thing he knows he has to do right now. 

**_22:13:57 To: Tachibana Makoto_ **

Text me when you reach home safe.


	9. my flyweight love, flyweight love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _and in the evening I arise_  
>  when the sun creeps on your covers  
> here I am  
> here you are  
> breathing a hello  
> my flyweight love, flyweight love  
> \- Flyweight Love, 2013

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello my lovely pumpkins ^^ Here's the next installment which I really like--things are starting to pick up from here :D Thanks for sticking around and for all the comments and kudos, they mean so much to me and motivate me to write on the bus on the way home from school instead of sleep haha. Hope you enjoy!

Haru notices that the sky has turned awfully dark, the streets below his window overwhelmingly quiet with traffic lights changing for empty intersections. He had packed up his laptop and charger in the late afternoon with a sigh when the broadband router in his house just refused to work the entire morning. The board had been up to their unreasonable antics again, emailing him the night before with a list of corrections they wanted done to the design (as vague as ever with instructions like "bolder lines," "more edgy" which are so subjective that Haru doesn't see the point) and _requested_  the updated design the day after. 

He remembers buying a sandwich at 5:20 pm. The guy who wears round specs and skinny jeans rolled just above his ankles and always leaves at 6 had left at 6:03. Meanwhile, as Haru was busy typing and re-typing coordinates into an ugly interface to adjust gradients, more people started to stand up, switching off desk lamps with coughs and shuffles. "Lock up when you're done, Nanase," his boss had called from the doorway about an hour after the 7 pm exodus and Haru had called back, "I will." 

The glass door had swung shut, leaving only Haru and the glowing pantry light. 

Drawing lines, connecting them, deleting and starting all over again. Haru feels the dregs of his creativity exhausting as he flips, turns, rotates the damn model, trying to manage all the items in the list at the same time because fulfilling them one by one doesn't work (he had tried once he entered the office). When he finally comes up with a modified version he's satisfied with, the faint buzzing of the electric lights and hum of the heater are starting to become annoying background noise. Haru's stomach growls as he leans back in his chair rubbing out the stiffness in his shoulders. What time is it? 10 pm? He should probably head home before the trains stop running. 

Absent-mindedly jabbing the home button of his phone, Haru suddenly stiffens in disbelief. He reaches for his phone again, blinking at the _00:15_  starting back at him and stifling a yawn. He'll have to try getting a cab then... Rolling his shirtsleeves back down to his wrists from the crook of his elbow where they had been pushed up and shrugging on the dark blue coat he had hung on the back of his chair, he packs his bag and fishes a few coins from his wallet to buy a cup of corn soup from the vending machine in the hallway. 

Wind ruffles his hair once he steps out of the building. Spring is round the corner, but the nights are still as cold. There is no vehicle in sight, much less an available taxi. Frustratedly lifting his fringe off his forehead, he gives up scanning the roads and starts scrolling through his contacts for taxi companies. 

Half an hour later, Nanase Haruka is still cab-less, grumpy, and not much less hungry. 

A phrase in Makoto's voice suddenly floats through his mind: _... I actually live near your office._ He is suddenly alert again. Makoto's house. Could he really? It's ridiculous acutally, Makoto is probably asleep. 

"Sorry, there is no taxi available, please try again in ten to fifteen minutes. Thank you!"  the pleasant computer generated voice chirps in his ear, interrupting his thoughts. It destroys the last of his patience. 

Pressing the green button and waiting for the call to connect, Haru shoves his other hand into his pocket and shifts from one foot to another on the pavement. It rings clearly,

and rings

_and rings._

Haru is ready to accept defeat and spend the night in the office but just as he moves to slide the phone away, a groggy voice sounds over the speaker.

"Hello... mmhh, Haru?"

"Makoto," Haru manages out, not sure how to grapple with his name being said with such familiarity. "I... uh... worked late, and now I'm stuck outside my office..."

"Uh huh," Makoto replies, trying to wake himself up and wondering what this is about.

"D'you think... uh," Haru ventures, hating how all the words seem to get stuck in his throat from embarrassment.

Oh. Makoto is fully awake now, his heart pounding furiously from what he thinks Haru might be suggesting. Sensing his shyness through the phone, Makoto decides to just go for it and see what happens.

"Do you... need somewhere to stay for the night?" He asks carefully, making sure he doesn't come off as creepy or anything. "I can come pick you up, outside your office right?"

"Yes, if it's not too much trouble," Haru replies as stoically as he can, trying not to let his voice tremble as a gust of wind blows through his jacket to chill his bones. "Thanks Makoto."

Haru makes out a figure jogging towards him a few minutes later, his sandy hair lit up by the orange glow of the streetlights. He breathes a sigh of relief that he didn't know he had been holding in and walks quickly to meet him halfway.

"Haru!" Makoto calls a short distance away. He's wearing his glasses and as he approaches, Haru can hear his faint panting. "Sorry, I came as quickly as I could!"

"It's fine," Haru says quickly, looking down to conceal his blush. It's just like Makoto to apologise while he's actually helping someone and he doesn't know how to respond, being the recipient of his kindness. He half wants to reprimand Makoto someday for being so easy to take advantage of, but at the same time marvels that such an easy-going, kind person still exists in this city where he has known nothing but competition.

"How long were you out here for?"

"About forty-five minutes," Haru says, finally giving in and wrapping his arms around himself to stop the shivers. His stomach growls loudly to make its concern known and Haru wants to smack himself on the forehead in embarrassment .

"Oh my..." Makoto sucks air through his teeth and winces in sympathy. His steps quicken and Haru's follow suit, eager to get into shelter.

The first thing Haru registers once Makoto unlocks the door is _warmth_ , beautiful, beautiful warmth that makes his toes feel like part of his body again. "Do you want a hot bath?" Makoto states, rather than asks. "You might catch a cold."

"A bath would be nice," Haru answers in gratitude.

"I probably have some things that I can lend you," Makoto says cheerfully. "If you're okay with it?"

Holy--wearing Makoto's clothes would mean being surrounded by his scent, being wrapped up in a that would almost definitely be too big for him... what were they going to do about... underwear? "Sure, if it's not too much trouble," he says quickly. "But-"

"Oh," Makoto cuts in, like he can read Haru's thoughts. "I have uh, spare disposable... uh," Haru watches him blush brightly and struggle with the word.

"Okay," he announces for both their benefit, really. "Thanks then."

Makoto disappears into the bedroom, still blushing and fumbles around in his closet for a spare towel and clothes. (Haru doesn't know whether to feel bad that his build is so noticeably smaller or insensibly excited about the cliché too big boyfriend shirt that's coming his way. Wait no, friend-- _boyfriend?_ **friend's** shirt.) He takes the time to look around him, remembering with a slight cringe how he had wondered what kind of house Makoto would have in the bar after they had first met. Well, he never dreamed that he'd get to see it so soon... in this situation. It's smaller than his own, and more cluttered but Haru realises that what he had taken for granted for the past few minutes is actually a sense of quirky, yet subtle style of design where colours and patterns go together in all sorts of ways. He notes with satisfaction though, that he was kinda right about the house plants. Makoto has three adorable pots of cacti on the coffeetable-- all powder blue, but each one with neko atsume kittens painted in different positions. 

The wall behind the sofa is painted a mildly lemon yellow, not a flat application of colour, but _painted_. He can see the broad brushstrokes, the layering of colour one on top of another sometimes in different directions. On the right facing the television, there are bookshelves that are actually hollow squares and rectangles of light wood with white margins of wall between them [(x)](http://pin.it/YFTCIbp) and filled with Japanese and English books, some of which Haru recognise. They look well-used but at the same time well taken care of. Haru turns to the left to see his murky reflection in a full length glass sliding door separating the hall from the balcony. He imagines how the warm light filtering through the white curtains looks to any passerby happening to tilt his head up. The cloth curtain on one side is left hanging but the other one is drawn back, white with minimalist black geometric lines. 

There is no kitchen door, just the frame painted an almost denim blue. It stands out against the white walls that are painted with the same brushstroke style. The entire house feels like a sanctuary completely separate from the world below. He has dried lavender sprigs and baby's breath in a vase next to the TV, and a taller leafy plant in the corner of the wall opposite the kitchen. There are a few photos in small standing frames, two teenagers who don't look older than fifteen who Haru figures are the twins, and a beautiful shot of a white cat sleeping on a porch with the sun illuminating only half of its face. The wooden floor is solid and comforting under his feet, the mess on the table even artistic in its way, with a book at its centre filled with swatches of colour flipped open to red-- _scarlet, crimson, rose, mahogany,_ _garnet_ _, ruby_. His pens are all black.

Makoto returns with a pair of track pants and a orange and yellow t shirt. "D'you think you could wear these?"

Haru assesses the clothing half-heartedly, not really wanting to find a problem with it and trouble Makoto to go back and find another piece. He holds the track pants against himself and figures they'll do--he can roll them up and pull the drawstring tight. But the shirt... well too big is easier to deal with and less unattractive than too small right? He takes them from him with a polite "thank you" and allows himself to be directed to the bathroom.

Haru quickly strips and turns on the shower, unable to restrain the groan of relief that escapes him. The water is hot and the pressure just high enough to pound satisfyingly onto his aching neck, back and shoulders. Scanning the few bottles on the wire rack, Haru picks out the shampoo and body wash. Two pumps into his palm, he begins lathering his hair. It smells of mint... and strawberry? A quick glance back to the bottle proves him correct. Would Makoto's hair smell faintly like this too? Haru's imagination drifts to how running his fingers through Makoto's hair would feel like, to press a kiss to the side of his head while having strawberry tickle his senses. It is not something appropriate to be imagining. (Haru doesn't even want to venture into the morality of whether it's "right" or not.) His clothes have a sort of soothing smell--like homeliness and wooden cupboards and something else that just makes Haru want to bury his head in and sniff partly out of pure curiousity because he has never let himself near enough to catch the scent of his clothes under his cologne, and partly because  _it's Makoto_ , the person who's been occupying more of his pre-sleep thoughts than anyone else for the last few years. 

When Haru steps into the kitchen, Makoto literally has to steel himself against the shock his heart absorbs. Haru's hair is casually, _sinfully-oh_ _god_ , tousled from the towel, his already supple waist indented more obviously by the baggy pants. He has them rolled up and grazing his ankles. And the shirt... shit, Makoto thinks he might never be able to look at that shirt again without feeling a slight familiar ache in his lower belly. The sleeves reach to Haru's elbows, and everything would be okay from then really, Makoto could just carry on with life like nothing had happened. But no--it has to be too big at the collar too. The neckline hangs lower than it should, past the hollow of his throat and exposing his delicate collarbones that wing towards his shoulder. Haru tugs at it a little self-consciously but all he does is make it slip off more on one side and display more of his fair, milky skin. 

Haru knows it's too big for him. He can see Makoto staring. But fuck it, if this is an opportunity to get some attention from the man, he sure isn't going to pass it up. So disregarding how the clothes hang on him, he silently takes another step in.

"You're hungry right?" Makoto recovers quickly and addresses him with a knowing smile. The involuntary voicing of his needs had been the cutest thing Makoto has ever heard from the man. Haru flushes.

"I boiled some water," the awkwardness is dispelled when Makoto continues good-naturedly. "Does instant ramen sound good?"

"Yeah... yes please." Haru's head is starting to throb, probably from staring at the computer screen for so many hours and being whipped around by the wind. "Thanks," he adds, while holding on to the chair in front of him to steady himself. He closes his eyes to try and ease the throbbing behind them but it isn't working. 

"Haru," Makoto's voice pipes through the static, deeply concerned. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah I'm fine," Haru mentally shakes himself to answer coherently. "Just tired." 

 _Oh my actual... How much more of a jerk can you get, Haru?_  Makoto is the one being dragged out of his bed because he had stupidly worked on and on without checking the time and is now boiling water and tearing open foil packets at one in the morning when he could have been fast asleep under the covers. Who knows what kind of day Makoto might have had? Perhaps he had gone to bed early for a reason and Haru was just ruining everything by being a bother? 

But Makoto just laughs gently, innocently. "Yeah, you should be, after working so late. You can go lie down on the couch or something? I'll call you when the ramen's ready." 

Once Haru makes a small noise of acknowledgement and slumps into the sofa, time doesn't make sense to him anymore. Makoto pads out ten minutes later (he had opted to turn on the fire and actually put the noodles in a pot so he could crack an egg into the soup--they've always been the best comfort food to him on a cold day) to see Haru resting his head against the backrest cushion and hugging one of the smaller ones, his fringe falling into his face and finally dry. He looks so much less guarded this way, so vulnerable and Makoto feels his heart beat faster when he thinks about Haru trusting him enough to do this, to even call him when he needed help.

 _Convenience,_ reality reminds him but he shrugs it off. Convenience is better than nothing after having someone at the back of your mind every single day for an entire week. But that's a little how friendships function too right? People convenient to call and go out with because you know they enjoy your company as much as you do theirs, convenient to seek advice from because they know you, know why you think the way you do. They're the easiest yet best people to go to for anything--anything at all. Makoto wonders if he could be that for Haru.

Bending down, he rests his hand on Haru's shoulder gently. He can feel delicate bone and the unyielding push-back of muscle. "Haru... Haru," he murmurs, squeezing lightly. "Haru, wake up."

When Haru sleepily opens his eyes, the first thing in his bleary vision is Makoto's smile and the rightward tilt of his head. He blinks a little and squints at the light, sighing softly. The warmth is delicious, as is the breadth of his palm. "The ramen is ready," Makoto offers, still in that same pleasant voice. He's evidently mastered the art of easing people back into consciousness. "Okay," is all Haru can muster and when he shifts, he doesn't miss Makoto's eyes widening or the way he quickly tries to draw his arm back inconspicuously. But he doesn't quite know what to make of it, so he just looks Makoto straight in the eye (he remembers being told he had nice eyes once so he hopes to god that the person was right so he doesn't embarrass himself by using them) and adds, "Thank you."

Makoto's blush is pretty obvious then. Haru can't help but preen inwardly at his success, but his apparent control of the situation is abruptly lost once Makoto makes his move, bracing his hand on the sofa cushion behind Haru. "Come on," he invites with a shy smile. 


	10. the scent of you alighting on my shoulder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _and then the scent of you alighting on my shoulder  
>  hey there, oh hi, hey there, oh hi, oh my  
> \- Flyweight Love, 2013_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! I'm so sorry that this is late--work has been piling up and it's my sports season atm so it's more difficult to find time to write. Still, I hope you like this even though it's a little shorter than usual, I promise that everything will be continued in the next chapter but this is just to give the story some movement and give you more insight into Haru's past. (Poor boy D;)
> 
> Please do leave comments and kudos if you liked it because they really make my days better and encourage me to keep writing!!

_10:00 am_ , _Saturday_    
Makoto has never responded to his alarm so quickly throughout his entire stay in Tokyo. The moment he registered the first few guitar chords, his hand was already searching for his phone to shut it off, his first thought being _oh my-_ _don't wake Haru,_ _don't_ _wake Haru_ _please_ _._ Putting on his glasses, he pads softly out to the living room where Haru had been put up on the sofa the night before with the sofa cushions (Haru's suggestion) and a spare blanket (his suggestion). Haru is sleeping on his side, one arm slid under the pillow at his head, and the other draping around his own slight frame to tuck that palm gently under the pillow as well. His lips are slightly parted, his entire being relaxed as he breathes steadily in and out. It would probably be okay to let him sleep until he wakes up on his own right?

Makoto can't help but notice that Haru behaves the same way in sleep--quiet, unassertive, barely creating a ripple unless he makes a point to. He doesn't think he's met someone so difficult--yet so easy--to read at the same time. Shifting a little in his sleep, Haru sighs, and Makoto wonders if he could be dreaming of anything nice. But just as he turns, he registers Haru curling in on himself and subconsciously drawing his blanket a little tighter around himself. It's  a little thinner than Makoto would had liked, but Haru had kept assuring him that it was perfectly fine the night before until he had felt embarrassed for worrying. _...Would it be too forward?_ He heads back to his bedroom to grab his own blanket and lay it carefully over Haru's sleeping form, then goes over to turn the heater down--it's always nicer wake up breathing cool air rather than warm stuffiness anyway.

After brushing his teeth and shaving, it occurs to Makoto that preparing some breakfast would be a good idea. There's nothing much in his fridge (that he guesses is still sensible to offer Haru after experiencing how good a cook he is) so the pastry shop it is. He hopes fervently that Haru isn't allergic to butter or something--that place makes the best box of pastries he has ever tasted, and it doesn't help his self-control that it's just a few blocks down from his apartment. Hastily scribbling a note and sticking it to the coffee table in front of the sofa, he shrugs on a jacket and heads out.

"Good morning!" He greets the girl in her twenties at the counter as he enters the small shop. He drops by often enough for the staff to recognise him and he's welcomed with a sunny smile and a wave. Getting a tray from the stack near the door and a pair of tongs, he proceeds to pick out what he thinks Haru might like. Two chocolate cream Danish rolls, a bacon quiche, some tarts with peaches and blueberries on top with lemon custard... he is about to decide between getting another sweet item or a savory, when a display at the counter catches his eye.

"Ne, Komatsu-san, what are these?"

"Oh, they're mackerel mini pies! We just tried selling them out a few days ago as a new item!" When Makoto doesn't reply immediately, she pipes up, "Would you like to buy one to try?"

Mackerel. Would Haru like it? He seems to have some kind of fixation with water, so fish should be a pretty safe try right? His mind made up, he turns his gaze back up with a smile. "Yeah, I'll have one, thanks!" She adds it to his tray and her eyebrows suddenly rise playfully. "Tachibana-san, are you buying for two today?"

"I-" Makoto cracks a bashful smile and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "A friend came over." He wonders why the thought of Haru wrapped up comfortably in _his_ home makes his insides flutter crazily like that. He must have kept the smile on a little too long because she looks at him knowingly and just continues ringing up the receipt.

***

  
Haru wakes up slowly. 

When he stretches his legs and opens his eyes, there's a drowsy weight cocooning him that wasn't there ten hours ago. It's thick, and warm, and doesn't help the fact that there are half-conscious thoughts floating through his head barring him from complete lucidity. _Makoto... what_ _does_ _his room_ _look_ _like? What does he... look like when he's just woken up?_

When he's sufficiently done lazily wiggling his toes, Haru sits up and rubs his eyes. He's never been those kinds of people who can jump out of bed at the first alarm call and do everything in record time because they're too bright and cheery and full of fucking energy. He prefers to crawl out of his blanket nest at his own pace, taking the time to get used to the light. A charcoal grey and maroon duvet has been tucked around him but wasn't the blanket... blue? He can still feel the loosely knitted fabric at his ankles and so he draw up the duvet to his nose and takes a tentative sniff.

 _It's_ _Makoto's, oh sweet and holy,_ _it's_ _Makoto's._

He should be feeling guilty right now for acting like a creep. Only, the combined facts that Makoto has thrown his blanket on him but the apartment is entirely silent proves that he's alone and free to let his imagination run wild. A yellow post it stuck to the coffee table catches his attention, and he stretches over to grab it. It reads: _Good morning_ _Haru_ _!_ _I've_ _gone out to buy some stuff for breakfast--feel free to_ _wash_ _up first,_ _I'm_ _coming back as_ _quickly_ _as_ _I_ _can! ^^_ Finally getting off the sofa, Haru hurries to the bathroom to brush his teeth and fix his hair before Makoto comes back. He's such a sweet guy, honestly, being so sincere to someone (Haru admits it even though _ugh_ it's such a regrettable admission) he doesn't even know that well or for long. And Haru doesn't warm up to people so easily or quickly most of the time, but Makoto just makes him feel safe--safe and wanted--two things he hasn't felt for a very long time.

When he was still racing, the tiny bit of novelty that had originally existed in seeing his times improve had been destroyed by the people he competed with. Everyone always hung back waiting for the score sheets to come out, to pour over the positions and agonise over the milliseconds that separated them from the top eight. Haru had found them interesting too, obviously, and more often than not found his name at the very top. At first, he had just taken the silence that enveloped the crowd once he stepped forward to check his name as coincidence, but as the years went on, he picked out more slivers of whispers before and after races than he would like to remember. _Nanase got a bit slower, - yeah, but_ _he's_ _still too fast. I mean, there are_ _seven_ _places left in the finals right - seven? - Nanase's_ _gonna_ _be first again,_ _obviously_ _._ It was as if being better than most at what he loved made him different from the others, a given competitor that people didn't even bother trying to chase. He started to notice the stares as he walked along hallways or bought drinks from the vending machine--some in distant awe, while others turned to their friends and pointed him out less than subtly. It felt like he wasn't wanted in competitions anymore since he took the top spot all the time and supposedly just controlled the gold medal. He felt hunted, with coaches and universities and other swimmers constantly watching videos of his dives, tracking his timings, finding out if he was injured (other schools might have a chance then). When he came for practice, all his teammates just smiled and said hello, but it was accepted that Nanase could do his own training. When he didn't come because he felt out of place, they said he was cocky and too good for them. Haru was only on the team to win. Nothing else.

But Makoto--Makoto had been his competitor too, in some way. He must have cheered at so many races for a teammate racing against Haru in the 100m, sighing in disappointment when Haru reached the wall first and emerged fron the pool. But now, he accepts Haru as a friend, encourages the relationship, even. It doesn't matter that Haru was different from the rest--Makoto still thinks that he's nice to talk to, doesn't make sour jabs at the competitions they had been in but accepts Haru for everything that he knows he is. It's kinda amazing, and just a little bit out of Haru's depth.

But it feels good, feels nice like waking up cuddled in utter warmth while the air is crisp and cold.


	11. how we blossom and we cease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _in this desert  
>  how we blossom and we cease  
> tell your story now  
> we have so much to know  
> \- Shine, 2004_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY FRIENDS :D I'm back. Sorry that this chapter took so long to get up but I didn't want to upload something I wasn't completely satisfied with haha :) 
> 
> On a sad side note, exams are coming and I've got a major uni entrance exam at the end of the year so updates might not be coming as frequently :/ I'm thinking of posting updates on the status of chapters now on then on my tumblr so you can follow me at intoxicatedcinnamon.tumblr.com and get a heads up when a chapter will take longer or let me know if you want the first half of something first if I'm taking too long to finish the entire thing. I'll probs only start if i have 10+ people actually following the updates? So yeah I'll track my notifications and we'll see how it goes okay! 
> 
> Meanwhile, I really hope you enjoy this and please leave comments and kudos :D

Haru plugs his laptop charger in to email the new design to the board before he forgets and wastes his entire night of effort. While converting the file to a pdf, he picks up on the sound of the lock unclasping and his mind immediately goes into a slight panic. What should he to say? "Welcome home"? _I'm not his housewife._ How about "Hi"? _Uhm._  "Good morning"? _Shit._ The door is in the process of being unlocked now, he doesn't have much time. When Makoto shuffles into the hallway, Haru abandons all thought and hastily offers a garbled "Welcome... back."

Makoto peers up from taking off his shoes at the greeting and his answering smile is so bright and open that Haru feels compelled to quirk a small one back. "I got breakfast, Haru!" He pads over to the dining table in his socks (that are white with little cartoon foxes, Haru notices) and sets a white cardboard box down. Blinking in curiosity, Haru clicks send on his email and closes his laptop. The smell of warm pastry and butter drifts to tease him even before Makoto has opened the box.

"So I got these..." Makoto says hesitantly, making the move to open the box. "There's ah, a mix of stuff." As he sets out the plates, he adds, "They had mackerel pie, I thought you might like it so I bought it back." When Haru's eyes widen and he doesn't respond immediately, Makoto amends "But if you don't, it's fine, I--"

"For me?" Haru breathes. He smiles then, a rare curve to openly grace his lips. "Thank you Makoto." He admits, mackerel pie is something he's never tried but mackerel is always good and _Makoto bought it thinking of him._ He isn't about to pass up something with those qualifications. 

And oh, okay _wow_ he was right. With a bite, the slightly sour, yet savoury taste of pickled mackerel blends with a crumbly pastry top that is not too overpowering or buttery. He's pretty sure his face still remains impassive but in his head, there's a regular fireworks party going on. Fuck the sandwich machine, this is going to be lunch for the foreseeable future.

"Is it okay?" Makoto's worried voice cuts into his (probably overly intense but whatever) adoration of the mackerel. 

"It's nice." It's so much more than just _nice_ but Haru has a feeling Makoto will get the point anyway without him having to spend too many sentences on it. "I like mackerel."

"I'm glad," Makoto catches his eye again before grabbing a plate of his own. "This shop sells pretty good pastries all round, actually." Haru hums in response and Makoto continues, "I send you the address later if you like, your office is around this area after all." _Frickin mind reader._

Makoto excuses himself to boil some water, and asks Haru if he wants a cup of tea, to which Haru readily assents. As Makoto moves around his kitchen gathering cups and spoons while humming to himself, Haru takes in the back view of his gangly limbs and strong, muscled back and forearms, enjoying that Makoto's cheerfulness just naturally flows out of him even when he's doing the most mundane of things. 

Steaming cups are set down on the table a few minutes later and Makoto takes a sip from his, sighing in relief. "Haru?" 

"Hmm?"

Makoto pauses for a while before continuing. "Um well... can I ask... do you like your job?"

 _Well._  He doesn't know where this question randomly came from but to give the guy some credit, he's always the one initiating conversation and he should have known that this topic would come up sooner or later. He can see his laptop from the corner of his eye. He thinks about all the late nights, the stress in uni, the surprising lack of emotion he has felt so far in the project. He remembers thinking that the board--the city--would have taken a part of him when this is finished. Not stolen: he got into this of his own will after all, but it still isn't a nice thing to think about.

"It's alright, I guess." No point spoiling someone else's day right? Makoto loves his job after all--the kind of commitment Haru is seeing is something he knows he can never replicate as long as he's in this company.

"Mm..." Makoto muses, picking out a fruit tart. Out of nowhere, he says with a light laugh, "Y'know, when I was still in high school, I entertained the thought of being a swimming instructor." 

Haru can imagine it--a gentle, encouraging coach. "For children?" It seems to fit.

"Yeah," Makoto sounds part relaxed, part wistful. "I taught for a while in Iwatobi's swim club while I was waiting for uni to start." Cute. He can totally imagine Makoto paddling around in the shallow side with a bunch of neighbourhood kids--a sight that isn't uncommon at the pool he frequents but he's never really paid much attention to. With Makoto, it's different though. Haru finds himself curious about every single detail that could have been. But he settles for a general question instead. 

"Did you always want to come to Tokyo? Or would you rather have stayed in Iwatobi?" 

"I guess... people always said Tokyo was the best place to go," Makoto says contemplatively. "I was never super ambitious so I thought Tokyo would be a good place to push myself." 

"Yeah, people do tend to say that," Haru replies. It hadn't even occurred to him to move from Tokyo at all--why would he? It was all he'd ever known and despite all his long-held childhood dreams and 500 word grade school essays stubbornly asserting so, he knew life on the sea wasn't for him. If he couldn't be with the water, then there was not much point moving anywhere else. 

"Especially for you, right? ...Like you were already here so there's no reason to move." Haru nods in acknowledgement and continues to bite into the pie. The smell of saba floats out with the steam and he chews slowly, seriously, thinking. 

"Y'know..." He wonders why he's telling Makoto this but he thinks out of everyone he knows, Makoto will be the least likely to scoff at him for being idealistic or over-confident. "I-I'm actually about becoming good enough to be a designer architect... for the buildings would visibly have my signature on them as like, a... uhm," He raises his head tentatively but Makoto is still looking at him intently. "Like an... aesthetic thing." 

"Oh man, that's cool Haru, really." Makoto says with wonder in his voice. "I bet people would pay for that if you made a good reputation."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, sounds like a really good idea" Makoto affirms with a bright smile, finishing his tart and reaching for a slice of the quiche. "You'd leave your mark then. All over Japan."

 _All over Japan._ Haru had entertained the thought once or twice as material to lull him to sleep but hearing it from Makoto's mouth makes it seem as though one other person believes he'll actually survive this self-induced work depression and make it big. It's as though he can read his mind--his heart, his loneliness. He wants to cry out to the city, _I'm_ _here,_ _don't_ _leave me_ ; wants to stay isolated, yet surrounded at intersections, wants to create a part of him to be worthy of being sketched, not kept in type. He wants to create beauty that lasts. He wants to be sure of himself for once, to know that he means something. Too many nights pass with him falling asleep to memories of the past--light blue hair still making appearances in strangely vivid dreams that leave him with an aching hole in his chest when he wakes up in the morning. 

"Well anyway, when you set up your company remember me sometimes okay?" Makoto breaks into his melancholy with a cheeky jab, his elbow nudging Haru's as he smiles. Haru chooses not to answer, instead making an appreciative noise as he finishes the last bit of the pie and lightly sucking the flakes of pastry off his fingers. When he notices Makoto staring, a blush warms his cheeks and looks down at the table. It's small, and subtle, and non-verbal as usual, but it's enough. 

In the midst of this crowded city where he has only a livelihood to bind him, where the ground is hard and difficult to carve your own place in, it's enough to realise there is someone whose happiness he would do anything to earn. Big dreams, an endearing hopeful uncertainty behind the figure that always symbolised confidence and grace to him, the adorable matter-of-fact shyness... Call it the granting of an idle childhood crush, coincidence, whatever. From the moment he saw Haru emerge from the pool the first time he made it to nationals, to the many nights that he lay awake recalling his graceful strokes, to the little daydreams filled with hazy memories of his black hair and startlingly deep blue eyes--to their meeting in the cafe that Makoto had made his way to musing about how funny it was that the lady had the same name as the swimmer... and finding out that fate works crazy shit once in a lifetime. 

He just wants Nanase Haruka to be happy all the time. And he wants to be the one to make him happy, to make him laugh, to hear what he thinks about who he is, make him cups of tea in the morning and stay near him forever. He's one of the most beautiful people he's ever met--

He looks across the table again. It feels like all the stars he's ever seen have exploded in his head and are trying to fly.


	12. a glance in time suspended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _and there’s a glance in time suspended as I wonder how it is  
>  we’ve been swept up just by circumstance  
> \- Homecoming, 2004_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOOO I'M BACK :D 
> 
> Thanks for all the lovely comments whenever I post updates guys they really make me feel the love hahaahaha
> 
> I'm sorry that this chapter is shorter than usual, but I wanted to only focus on Makoto here. The next big thing is probably coming the chapter after next so keep an eye out for it! ^^

Makoto enters the office half an hour earlier the following Monday. He was assigned to shadow a more senior interior designer on his project so as to "gain more experience" (but from the look in his boss' eye, it was totally so that he doesn't mess up the huge project that he's landed and throw the company's name out the full length windows of their office space on the twentieth floor.) He does feel grateful though, not many uni students were approached during their final year, and by such a well-established firm at that, and he's sure there are many things he still doesn't know. But concentration is going to be difficult today, with his heart still apparently undecided between worrying itself half to death about whether Haru even likes boys in the first place and cooing over all his cute little details of that he'd never really thought about before.

There's the way his hair falls so perfectly to frame his face, for one. Makoto can't remember the last time he saw a guy his age having the fringe of a high-schooler but Haru pulls it off with finesse. Haru's has a slighter frame than most guys Makoto knows, but his muscles are sculpted through years of training in only the front crawl-- _I only swim free_ \--his arms are tight and lean without being wiry... and remembering the way he looks when he wears a dress shirt, or just jammers, for that matter, is driving Makoto crazy.  

His legs. Are gorgeous. Long, slim, strong, his thighs a straight, firm line down from his hips... His voice calling his name low and even, not soft but quietly certain that he will be heard. Haru always stands with his shoulders back: a habit probably picked up from constantly having to present himself to a crowd. His collarbones run all the way from his throat to protrude at his shoulders, his waist slim and tempting...

"Tachibana!" His grey-haired senior's voice booms from the doorway. "We're leaving now!" Hurriedly grabbing his own briefcase, Makoto bids a polite goodbye to everyone and bows on his way out.

_Focus, Makoto, focus._

They enter the meeting room just five minutes early, and Makoto starts setting up the equipment for the presentation and feasibility study. As people start to settle in, he remembers why he had chosen to do interior design in the first place. The job scope is huge--instead of being confined to a desk the whole day, there are people to meet, convince, negotiate and discuss ideas with. Design trends change every few months, pattern and material options get wider and wider with every passing day. Within a deceptively small space is a huge amount of planning and meticulous attention to detail, heavily dependent on his ability to visualise and analyse. It's definitely more interesting for him than business or law, anyway.

The lights dim and his senior rises, thanking everyone for coming down. As Makoto clicks slides and hands materials to him from a pre-prepared file, his thoughts start to drift back again to a certain... significant other person involved in his own project. Even after changing back into clothes that had already been worn the day before to take the train home, Haru had still managed to make his heart beat erratically just simply by rolling up his long sleeves--calm, composed, professional. Makoto had entertained fantasies of rolling them up for him one day, doing his tie, helping him into his coat... feeling the backs of their hands brush together and seeing Haru's small smile at the end. 

_Could Haru be smiling now?_

Everything about him is just so graceful and assured that Makoto finds it hard believing that the faint uncertainty and hesitance he can feel from Haru every time they do something together is real. He's asked himself about it time and again, but somehow, he can't shake the feeling that Haru is not used to being _wanted_. For the life of him, he can't imagine why because Haru seems to be the epitome of success--doing at whatever he chooses to do, having magazine-worthy looks ( _and the body to go with it too, mm hmm_ ) and not being a jerk about it--shouldn't Haru be used to attention by now? 

Or rather, shouldn't he be used to taking advantage of that attention to get what he wants? Haru doesn't strike him as someone comfortable with manipulation though. A little awkward, yes, shy... _cute_ , intense about the things he wants to focus on... he doesn't seem like top businessman socialite material. If nothing works out ( _pretty big chance of that happening, Makoto_ _let's_ _be real_ ), Makoto would still want him as a friend... though he's not sure if it'll be fair to either one of them for him to be so selfish. 

Thankfully, despite his less-than-full concentration, the meeting still goes smoothly and Makoto has managed to make some notes, more as a means to occupy his hands and make him look more diligent rather than as actual reference. But he'll tidy that up another day. Is it crazy that he could actually contemplate the tiny, remote possibility that Haru could actually return his feelings someday? Is he just being too hasty like a foolish teenager feeling puppy love for the first time? Makoto's had crushes on guys before, sure, but they were more like fleeting spells of adoration that he never took seriously. But Haru feels different.

Is he supposed to know Haru inside out before making up his mind, or is love the process of discovering someone more and more, bit by bit everyday? Should he trust right now?

_What is meant to be, will be?_

But how passive can he afford to be?

_IS HARU EVEN OKAY WITH DATING A GUY?_

He keeps up with the day in endless circles of questions.


	13. I map the words out / maybe you will say them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _the night’s like coffee to my tongue  
>  like waking up without a sound  
> I map the words out  
> maybe you will say them  
> \- Homecoming, 2002_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAKOHARU LOVE IS BEST LOVE RIGHT OR RIGHT 
> 
> Anyway, I'm sorry this took so long but I wanted to make it the best I could so here you go and please enjoy and leave a comment!! :D

One of the perks of being rich and successful is that people have no choice but to listen to you and everything will always be to your convenience because they _so happened to be arranged that way Nanase-san, we appreciate your kind cooperation in agreeing to a skype call at 9am on a Sunday._  Hell, Haru had never particularly disliked his surname but hearing it overtime called in that nasal voice when he just wanted to soak in the tub instead had been trying, to say the least. 

It's been hard keeping up his training and exercise once he'd started working. His uni had a gym but he has to take a bus now if he wants to get to the sports centre. Haru imagines becoming one of those businessmen who drink every day after work and grow a beer gut, and it sends shudders of horror down his spine. Yeah, he has that occasional cocktail now and then especially when he needs to cleanse his head out (baths are only good for rationalising) but it's probably a good time to go and work out... _Is it just his imagination or is his v line less sharp than it used to be?_

An hour later, he eases his conscience by running 4km on the treadmill (he would have done it outside but Tokyo is just so _crowded_ and _polluted_ ), using the bench press and doing four, instead of three rounds of his core routine. But of course, working out has made him even more restless and he knows nothing but the water will soothe his ruffled feathers. 

_**14:25 Incoming call: Haru** _

"Hello?" 

"Are you free today?" Haru gets straight to the point, as usual. "I thought maybe we could uh, go swimming." 

"Ah, I'm actually out at the moment..." Makoto admits, hefting his guitar strap over his shoulder as he prepares to press the bell to alight at the next stop. 

"Work?" 

"Nah, I'm erm," _god,_ he doesn't know whether to feel embarrassed or- "I'm going out to busk, actually." 

"You sing?" Haru sounds surprised. 

"Uh yeah, sorta," Makoto says with a shy laugh. "A little bit." 

"Okay." And he hangs up.  

 

_**14:30:15 From: Haru** _

Where will you be 

 

Haru spots him at an intersection in the park's pathways, a nice distance from the field where a children are playing a game of tag. Makoto is wearing his glasses again. He's in a black t-shirt and jeans that fit closely to his legs, with an olive green parka hanging just past his hips and a marmalade-coloured scarf wound around his neck. 

He tucks himself in a bench at the side by a big tree, hoping that Makoto won't catch sight of him too early. Some people walk past him without a second look, too busy talking on their phones. There's even a big group of teenagers who yell and laugh at each other right in front of Makoto on skateboards, and Haru just feels so unjustified even though he's not the one singing. 

It occurs to him that Makoto has to be incredibly brave to do this--allow everyone to judge him, grapple with the possibility that no one may be listening even though he's singing his heart out, the chance that he might have to go home without earning enough to even treat himself to a nice dinner after all these hours.  

But Makoto had seen him. After replying to the message, he had kept an eye out for a familiar head of dark hair and dark blue eyes. And honestly, he doesn't understand why he's so attracted to what Haru is wearing because _objectively, rationally_ , okay, he's not wearing anything special. He's in a plain brown t-shirt, khaki pants, with his customary dark blue outerwear in the form of a hoodie _(a plain hoodie, why is he getting so excited??)_ and a scarf that he couldn't really make out from so far away. He's already started a song though, so he can't go over and say hi. Haru settles himself behind a tree and Makoto just hopes that his voice can reach him. 

_\--Nothing's gonna hurt you_  

_the way the words do_

_When they settle 'neath your skin_

_Kept on the inside, no sunlight,_

_Sometimes a shadow wins_

_But I wonder what would happen if you_

 

_Say what you want to say_

_And let the words fall out_  

_Honestly, I wanna see you be brave._

 He forces himself not to tense up just because Haru is watching and it becomes easy after a while, losing himself in the music and the joy of singing. He'd always found it liberating--being able to hear his guitar echoing through the speaker into the air and boldly letting his voice follow his imagination instead of having to confine himself to quiet hums when he's around other people. He doesn't have to think, he just _feels_ and the music goes along with it. This song is no different. He knows what it's like, to need to be brave, to move away from what is comfortable and step out for himself, to have to fight alone for what he wants in a city filled with strangers. 

Trying to crane his neck as inconspicuously as possible, Haru peeks out to watch Makoto perform. A small crowd has gathered to his left, watching him intently as his voice soars again to hit the high notes, teasing them back down to the breathy midriff. Haru swallows, transfixed. Makoto's voice, like the rest of him, is deliciously masculine. It scrapes accurately through the low notes, breaks through clear and bright on the chorus, bending and improvising. _Be brave,_ the song seems to keep repeating. Is he? Can he still be brave? Saying what he thinks at work doesn't count--he wonders when was the last time he had a honest conversation with himself. 

When he strums the last chord, a little girl who had been watching claps her hands excitedly and toddles over with short, chubby legs covered in knee high socks, coins clutched tightly in her fist. Makoto gets down on one knee with a gentle smile as she approaches, his head cocked to the right, and pats her head when she drops them into his guitar case. "Arigatou!" he says brightly, raising his head to acknowledge her grandmother and give her a friendly nod. "Aya-chan loves music," Haru hears her say with a fond chuckle, "she enjoyed your singing very much." 

"Oh, is that so?" he says amiably. "Would you like to try touching the guitar then, Aya-chan?" Haru can't pick up more of Makoto's low murmuring very well, but soon he hears the sound of a guitar string being plucked lightly, followed by Makoto's warm chuckle and claps. "Well, maybe next time you can learn to play it too!" 

As the little girl trots off with her hand in her grandmother's, Makoto spots him looking in his direction, and their eyes meet. Haru's widen, startled, while his own curve downwards, offering a tentative smile, feeling like a boy again trying to lure a shy cat out of its hiding place. Holding his gaze for a moment longer, Makoto gets back up and begins re-tuning his guitar, guessing that it would be better to wait this out. True to his intuition, Haru appears round the corner a few minutes later, silently still, and sits on the curb of the path facing him, his legs tucked to his torso and his arms resting on his knees. 

He sings song after song, taking water breaks in between and tuning his guitar but Haru doesn't move from his spot. He doesn't even look at his phone, just observes Makoto from that distance and doesn't seem affected by all the people moving around him. Makoto wonders if he'll cramp up, staying motionless like that but he forces himself not to approach Haru and fuss over him like a kid. He concentrates instead of slipping out a small smile and "Thank you" in the middle of his singing whenever someone drops money into his box, closing his eyes sometimes to focus on something else other than the turbulent feelings roaring in him. 

Haru is only aware that he's been sitting for a long time. A breeze blows gently by, tickling his neck and he looks up into the sky where an outline of the crescent moon is just beginning to show amongst the pink and orange clouds tinted by the setting sun. Makoto feels the cold breeze too and checks the time on his tablet, realising that it's almost time to go. As he prepares to sing his last song, he steals another glance at Haru, whose head is tilted up and seems to be observing something in the sky above him. _Do_ _I_ _really love him?_  

So his voice picks up the melody in a rubato lilt.  _Sunday morning rain is falling... S_ _teal some covers share some skin-_ Haru isn't a big pop follower but he recognises the opening words of "Sunday Morning". People start bobbing to the relaxed, cheerful strumming of his guitar and soothing, easy voice.

_Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable_

  
_You twist to fit the mold that I am in_.

  
_But things just get so crazy living life gets hard to do_ ,

_And I would gladly hit the road get up and go if I knew_

_That someday it would lead me back to you_

  
_That someday it would lead me back to you_ \--

Makoto's voice has taken on a kind of honest longing, he sounds younger and more naive, like a man singing about being in love for the first time. Who could he be thinking of? Haru imagines Makoto's arms around someone, waking up to her to his bed and an uncharacteristic strike of white hot jealousy shoots through him, shaking him to his core. _What_ _is_ _this?_

_That may be all I need,_

_In darkness he is all I see_

Haru frowns a little at the slight change in lyrics--he's pretty sure that the song was about a girl from all the times he's heard it in shops and school. Maybe it was a slip. Makoto senses Haru's alert gaze on him and looks up from beneath his fringe to smile at him timidly.

_Come and rest your bones with me_

_Driving slow on Sunday morning_

_And I never want to leave._

 

  _Fingers trace your every outline_

_Paint a picture with my hands_

_Back and forth we sway like branches in a storm_

_Change the weather, still together when it ends_  

Makoto's voice brings back a rush of emotion and memory that Haru isn't used to--Makoto in a suit, waking up under his blanket on the sofa... Serious Makoto in meetings and excited Makoto in cafes... More time has been spent happy with this man than he's realised and it makes his heart swerve into unknown territory. _Love_ , it had always been something he wanted, hadn't it? The gaps deep within him had never been filled--he'd never filled them with anything but priorities and expectations and his friendship with Rin, and loneliness still whistled painfully through. But Makoto fills them without him having to force it, makes life with him worth looking forward to, is gentle, kind, patient, _beautiful_ , everything that Haru wishes he could let his guard down to be, everything that Haru wishes he could be beside every single day and night. He had googled Love. People describe it as a fluffy, fuzzy feeling, not the overwhelming, fierceness of _wanting_ that Haru has, but he's inclined to think that they're wrong in his case. 

Lost in his thoughts, he doesn't notice until Makoto starts breaking into the chorus one last time. And Haru sits up straighter, determined to catch if he'll use the same word again. But he doesn't have to. Makoto looks right at him, only at him, and he sings, with an unmistakable clarity and a blush that Haru is certain he means. 

  _In darkness he is all I see_

_Come and rest your bones with me_

_Driving slow on Sunday morning_

_And I never want to leave._  

The last of the daylight fades into lamp-lit night, to the sound of a note carried, lingering on the air. 

When the crowd dissipates, Haru gets up to slowly walk over with his hands in his pockets. "You changed the-" he wants to say _pronoun_ but that sounds too assertive, presumptuous. He is vaguely aware of the fact that he hasn't greeted Makoto properly but this is more important. "The... words." Maybe he should have phrased it as a question.

Makoto swallows hard as his gaze drops to the ground. "Yeah."

"I-" Haru is about to say _forget it, never mind_ but Makoto's eyes abruptly catch his again, their normally refreshing green replaced with a hesitant rawness. _Say what you wanna say_ , Makoto had sang. But he--both of them are having trouble with that now. 

This man stands in front of him with guitar-string indented fingertips and a tin box between them and Haru realises that the decision had always been made for him. 

"Makoto... I-I love you," he murmurs, his words flowing out like they were meant to be said all along. He can almost feel the air between both of them tense for a moment and he starts to pull away from Makoto's space, to apologise for misinterpreting everything and run before he can be rejected again. But Makoto gasps, and then he's not thinking, throwing his arms around the smaller frame, clasping him to himself, knocking the air out of him. He buries his face into Haru's neck, and Haru understands, _that's my answer._ Haru smells like wind-blown wool, the faintest hint of deodorant and a clean, leafy scent from staying out so long that makes Makoto want to hold on to him forever. 

"Makoto," he says again, gently squeezing the man in his arms to promise _really, truly_. "Makoto, Makoto," his name sounds so easy and unreal, slipping out from his mouth like that. Makoto's touch is a relief that flows through his body in waves, comforting, reassuring.  

Makoto's breath settles warm on the back of his neck. "Haru..." When they slacken their hold on each other, Makoto's eyes are shining and a little bit wet. "I thought... H-Haru, I thought..." He interrupts himself with a broken laugh that Haru would have been concerned about, only Makoto looks happier than he's ever seen him, even when he's laughing. "I thought there was no way you would ever notice me, I--" 

Haru's brows pinch into a confused frown. "I love you," he repeats again as if that should explain everything. Honestly, he can't believe that Makoto would have even thought that Haru was deserving of his affection, much less put himself down like that. Makoto is the best person he has met, Makoto understands what sometimes he himself struggles to get about himself and what he wants to say. But Makoto still looks incredulous so he tries again. "I... I never... n-not noticed you." That doesn't sound quite right, doesn't show the feeling of fullness or the sudden shock that his heart is sustaining just from looking so closely at Makoto with his messy fringe and chapped lips. 

"Nanase Haruka-san," Makoto suddenly says, and Haru raises his eyebrows at the formality but Makoto's arms drop to the indent of his waist, his palms resting broadly on the small of his back. "Be my boyfriend?" Makoto asks playfully even through the tears that still linger in his eyes.

_Boyfriend._

"Mm," Haru affirms, cupping his jaw with slender fingers, his touch feather-light but face completely serious. He looks up at Makoto as if trying to phrase something before it comes out and Makoto can see his own reflection in his blue irises. "That means... you're mine now too right?" 

"Yeah," Makoto feels like his smile is going to split his face in two but he can't bring himself to stop. 

"I'll carry your bag for you." Haru untangles his arms from around Makoto's middle and sneaks them in between their embrace to place his palms on Makoto's chest. "You... can I... come over? I can make dinner."

Makoto releases his boyfriend-- _Nanase Haruka is his boyfriend_ \--already feeling the loss but taking comfort in the knowledge that Haru will be with him for the rest of the night. "Yes please," he agrees. But when the shorter man steps back to straighten out his jacket, he's pulled back in by his wrist and met with a longing, sweet sigh against his neck, words tumbling out in a rush. 

"I love you Haru, Haru, _love you love you love you_."

[ What they look like ](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/50/2c/eb/502ceb4759bd0053bc433cd868d810dc.jpg)


	14. sacred simplicity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAANNNDDD IT'S HERE! :D Sorry for making you guys wait, I was having the longest writer's block ever and I really wanted this to be as perfect as I could make it. Please do leave a comment if you enjoyed it, it really makes my day, and I will try to answer every one!! Thank you for reading so far and keeping up with their lives <3

They walk together out of the park, heading towards the nearest supermarket to pick up groceries. Haru keeps his eyes on the ground, trying to familiarise himself with all the _newness_ , of Makoto cheerfully making light conversation beside him with the same knowledge in both their hearts. Their footsteps fall in tandem and soon, Makoto feels a pressure at his fingertips. Looking down, he sees Haru subtly trying to nudge their fingers together, his face bearing the slightest blush that wouldn't have been visible if not for the bright headlights of a car zooming by them. Smiling, he nudges back, waiting for Haru and soon, Haru's slim fingers slide completely into the gaps between his, and press their palms together. It's nerve-wracking, and wonderful, like champagne bubbling through his veins.  

"So what are you planning on cooking, Haru?"

Haru turns from examining a pack of frozen scallops in the freezer. "Uh, I was thinking of mack-uhm... what's your favourite food?"

Makoto laughs at the way Haru is staring wide-eyed up at him like a child asking the most important question in the world. "I like green curry," he says honestly. "But it's quite hard to make so-"

"Okay." Haru interrupts him, mind seemingly made up. "Then we need to get chicken."

"You know how to make it?" Makoto asks in delight.

"I've eaten it once," comes Haru's matter-of-fact answer. "We can google the instructions when we get home."

"But Haru, do you-" Makoto starts a little doubtfully, wondering how to reassure Haru that anything was fine really. _He'd only eaten it once_... Does that mean that he doesn't like it? But the blue-eyed man turns with an expression that Makoto would normally classify as unreadable but now can sense a fondness behind. "Stop worrying Makoto."

Makoto grins then, and Haru is certain that he hasn't made a mistake confessing after all if the man owning his heart can make him feel like he owns the entire world's worth of sunshine. When a strong arm sneaks gently around his shoulder while he's deciding between packs of powdered seasoning, he leans a little into the warmth behind him.

Makoto's apartment is exactly the same as Haru remembered it, except that this time, he's stepping in not as a guest but something more. Deciding that being his usual awkward self when emotions are involved would probably spoil everything, he tries to go with the flow and explain everything later. _After all, he's already conquered the highest hurdle in the park, hasn't he?_ "Uhm, do you have anything I can change into?"

"Oh! Yeah sure, just let me--" Makoto's voice fades as he shuffles into his bedroom. Haru trails after him, hesitating before following. Makoto looks through his closet before pulling something out from the back of it, then turns around with another beatific smile. "Is this alright?" He asks, holding up the yellow and orange shirt from before and the pair of track pants.

This man is literally going to be the life and death of him at the same time. 

Makoto insists on _helping_ , even though Haru insists back that he can do everything on his own. He just wants Makoto to sit down in that goddamn chair and rest, but it seems like his confession has awakened a new side of Makoto that Haru had never seen before and he certainly doesn't expect a whine of "But I want to be close to you, Haru!" And so Haru relegates him to using the rice cooker (Makoto had assured him about five times that if the rice didn't turn out like rice he'd run over to the convenience store to get two instant packs).

As the green curry is bubbling in the pot, its spicy, creamy aroma starts to waft around the house and Makoto wanders back to the kitchen from the sofa where Haru had insisted he go and lie down until dinner is ready. "Oh my god Haru, that smells..." Makoto leans against the fridge and tips his head to the side to rest on it, " _so good_..." He's still in the fitting black t shirt he wore just now, but changed into a pair of shorts and heat rises in Haru at the sight of Makoto's lazy smile.

"Come and help me stir," he says and steps aside, holding out the wooden spoon in invitation. Once Makoto takes it, he wonders what Haru has to put in now. It smells and looks pretty complete to him.

He's about to turn around to see what Haru is getting up to when two arms wrap around his middle and clasp together at his stomach. "Har-"

"Makoto," Haru breathes out, slowly moving to rest his head on the other's broad back. "Stir." 

Could he get any cuter? Makoto thinks not. He dutifully makes a show of moving the spoon in circles, but by the way one of if his larger, warm hands sneaks down to cover Haru's own, they both know their minds are not completely on dinner, needful and promising as it is. After what feels like a little eternity, Haru releases him and takes over, so effortlessly and quietly that Makoto hardly notices. Getting the hint, he starts taking cutlery out and arranging them on the countertop, then slipping outside to out on some music. He feels like the silence between them means _more_ than before (obviously, considering what had just happened) but he doesn't really know how to change how he deals with it right now.

***

"Your singing was really good," Haru pipes up in the midst of Makoto digging into his curry. He smiles widely in response which is quickly thwarted by the spoon that he was actually lifting to his mouth and Haru gives him this little amused look that seems to say _Swallow your food first_. "Really? You liked it?"

"Yes I did," Haru replies evenly, taking another mouthful. Then suddenly changing the subject, he adds, "This curry needs more coconut milk. I'll remember that next time."

"Haru..." Makoto says, feeling incredibly touched that Haru is already considering a _next time_. But his boyfriend's lips simply curve in a small smile and continue eating.

After they've washed the dishes and put everything away, Makoto leads the way to his sofa. He presumes Haru would want to talk about everything that has just happened. "So," he opens the vaguest way he knows how. "We're together now?" Haru doesn't look completely at ease laying out their feelings in black and white either, so he guesses it'll be best to just get the necessary formalities out of the way as soon as possible so he can revel in the joy of being able to call Haru his boyfriend. 

"Yeah," comes the expected monosyllabic reply. Haru looks down at his knees where they're pressed together. He knows they should talk, but articulating these illusive things called _feelings_ have never been his strong point. "I... is that okay with you?" Makoto almost giggles at the sudden shyness that has taken Haru by storm because common sense would have told him that he wouldn't have let him hug him, or use the word _Love_  if he wasn't okay with it right? But Haru is fidgeting, tense and nervous and Makoto wonders if something in Haru doesn't believe that everything that has just happened has really happened and will happen for good. So he decides to forgo this entire awkward structure of a conversation that doesn't sit well with both of them--he should have realised, knowing what Haru is like after all, and switch track to a route that _does_ suit what they are. 

"Can I kiss you?" Makoto's voice is a whisper. He is not evading the question. Haru doesn't smile, doesn't nod reassuringly like people do in rom-coms, but rather places a hand over his again, holding, answering. When he dips his head down, Haru's eyes flutter closed but Makoto keeps his open-- _please let the aiming be correct, please_ \--but when they meet, it's beyond anything he's ever dreamed of. Haru's lips are soft, and smaller than his,  and his eyelashes brush his cheek like a parallel butterfly's kiss. His hand moves automatically to cup his jaw, drifts down his side to pull him closer by his waist. It's not so much the contact, but more that it's _Haru_ he's kissing, Haru who's letting him do this. The person he had admired from afar for so long, the person who he'd made up little nonsensical conversations in his head with only when he was completely alone and aware that he was acting crazy, his inspiration to continue swimming even though he doesn't compete any more--it's burning him up like nothing else. They contract and relax, in and out, holding each other till they're short of breath. 

"When did you know?" Haru blurts breathlessly when they part. The question takes Makoto aback at first, raw curiosity and residual disbelief burning through Haru's inquisitive dark blue eyes. "I- uh, it was the morning you stayed over at my place... you looked so, uhm," the nervousness suddenly wells up in his throat at the thought of revealing secrets he had kept to himself for so long.  

"So... what?" Haru swallows hard before asking, trying to grapple with the fact that the man he had a crush on from the first time they met loves _him_.

"So beautiful, Haru-" Makoto's voice is desperate and overflowing with feeling as he strongly pulls him in again to seal his mouth over his. This time, Haru feels Makoto's tongue nudging at his lower lip and he opens out of instinct--he's never done this before--and Makoto slips in to caress his tongue with his own. It's warm and wet and _close_ and _oh god_ he feels like he could kiss this gorgeous man forever. Makoto tastes and smells a little like the spices that they had for dinner, but more so a sweet saltiness that is Makoto's own taste and it sends prickles down his spine. The foreign sounds of their mouths moving clumsily together echo in his head, and Makoto's big hands are in his hair, on his neck, moving down his back. Makoto's tongue sweeps the sensitive roof of his mouth and Haru can't help but let out a whimper, his body pushing to be nearer, nearer to Makoto's warmth. The sound seems to jolt Makoto out of his reverie and he detaches their lips slowly, a silver strand of saliva still connecting their lips. "Haru... I'm sorry, I uh- I've never..." 

"Me neither." Haru replies stoically but his breath is still coming fast, in little pants. "It's okay Makoto." He shifts closer to him, till their thighs are completely touching and Haru can feel the muscles under Makoto's loose shorts tensing deliciously.

"I had a crush on you the first time we met... and in high school," Makoto begins and buries his face in Haru's neck again, brushing his nose against soft, pale skin. "Oh _god_ -" But Haru is only half-listening as his brain... and _lower_ decides to focus on the heat of Makoto's breaths on his neck. It feels so good, and while Haru is pretty sure nothing would beat the feeling of Makoto making little noises into his mouth, this is another exciting prospect.

"Kiss me." Haru doesn't know where his voice is coming from but it's breaking, trembling as he gives the command. Makoto raises his head tentatively to press their lips together again but once they part, Haru gently winds his fingers in his hair and guides him back to his neck again. "Here, please, Makoto." A warm breath passes on his skin and Haru's eyes close in the seconds that Makoto stalls. Slowly, timidly as if afraid to frighten him, Makoto's lips brush against the sensitive skin of his pulse point, and Haru had to force himself not to jump. Makoto feels his heart racing with his own. As Makoto starts to pressing his lips and tongue harder against his skin, he notices Haru unconsciously tipping his head back to give him even more access (since when had his arm found its way to support the small of Haru's back?) and then he's half under Makoto, completely relaxed with his breaths coming and going more audibly, tinged with the slightest hint of sound at the end. _Tenor, definitely tenor_. Haru's hands are loosely wrapped around his shoulders and Makoto makes his kisses wetter, letting the sounds of their shy experimentation drive him as he moves from below Haru's ear to suck and nibble at the delicate hollow of his throat and the underside of his chin.

Haru is squirming under him, his palms sliding enticingly up Makoto's sides and roaming his back as Makoto forgets about his self-consciousness and his entire world becomes _Haru, Haru_ , trying to keep in tune with what he needs as best as he can. Makoto's frame feels deliciously big and solid next to Haru, and his muscled arms are wrapping almost completely around him. Haru suddenly has a vision of being to do this whenever they want to, which (well, he can't say for Makoto, but from the way he's hugging him to his chest and muffling whimpers and gasps into Haru's neck like he's the one being pleasured instead--) seems will be pretty often. 

He puts all his effort into concentrating past the pleasure and gently pushing Makoto away from his shoulder, where he's lavishing kisses on the parts of his shoulder and collar that have been exposed more than usual by the shirt. But all he has to do is nudge the other man's shoulders, and Makoto lets go immediately. "Haru?" Worried green eyes search him, checking for any signs of discomfort. "Was it- was it not okay?" He looks so apprehensive that Haru can't resist fondly pushing the fringe off his forehead and offering him a peck on the mouth.

"It was good," Haru assures him. "But I want to touch Makoto too." Since tilting Makoto down and supporting him like a princess would obviously not work the way it had worked just now, he does the next best thing. Getting off the sofa, he carefully re-seats himself on Makoto's lap, his calves on either side of his waist. "Haru!" Makoto looks down at himself, scandalised. "You-"

"It's fine," Haru murmurs. Ducking his head down, he swipes his tongue across Makoto's adam's apple. Makoto's entire house is cool, and a breeze is blowing in gently to flirt with the curtains at the balcony but his skin is warm to the touch. _Like his heart,_ Haru muses. His skin smells faintly of the woolen scarf that he had wrapped around his neck the entire day but it's comforting as Haru tries to replicate what Makoto had done for him that had felt so good. Pressing his tongue firmly against Makoto's pulse, he drags it downwards. Thank goodness he'd always had this unhealthy curiosity when it came to dating advice on youtube because it's all coming back--bits of information that he always thought would be of little use to him picked up on bored nights alone. _The neck is less sensitive than the lips, so use a little more force, hold their heads firmly so they know you know what you're doing, try drawing a figure eight..._ He almost laughs at how inexperienced he is. But Makoto is sighing his name beneath him, husky, low, gentle and hopeful. His hands, once resting heavily on his waist are moving up his back, dropping down to toy with the hem of his shirt. He figures both of them being inexperienced kinda negates whatever embarrassment he would have felt. 

Even with his eyes closed, Makoto thinks that Haru is as perfect as he always dreamed. His back, like the rest of him, is leanly muscular yet delicate, if that's possible. His weight feels like something Makoto must protect at all costs, something to be treasured and kept safe. Haru drops little kisses on his cheekbones, on his eyelids, like flower petals falling. Makoto desperately wants to wander up his shirt, to dip a little past the loose waistband of his pants to feel if Haru's skin there is as smooth and fair as the rest of him that he's seen but he reminds himself to take it slow.

_It's only been their first few hours together after all._

Haru seems to feel the temperature rising a little too fast as well, because he releases his hold on the other man and loops his arms around his neck, just looking down at him. His mouth is a darker pink than usual, and wet with his ministrations. Makoto just smiles up at him, smoothing a thumb over the back of his earlobe and trailing down the line of his face. Panting slightly, Haru scoots forward and rests his head on Makoto's shoulder, holding him tighter in a hug. From the way Haru doesn't hold back on alerting him to the bulge pressing into his stomach, he seems to be echoing Makoto's own thoughts. _We should stop._

"Oh my god, I can't believe you're real," Makoto sighs with a bashful chuckle at the end when he gently eases Haru down to lie fully on the couch. He hovers over him, contenting himself with lacing their fingers together. "I can't-" 

"Makoto," Haru reaches up to cup the back of his head with a soft look in his eyes but determination in the way he sets his jaw. "Stop looking at us as swimmers." His fingers curl gently into the hair at Makoto's nape and tugs gently, getting him to focus on him. When Makoto's eyes meet his, he holds him fast. _I'm just Haru_ , he tries to say. _Just Haru who loves you._

"Haru, I-" Makoto begins bashfully. "When I told you I loved you I... uh," his voice gets stuck in his throat out of embarrassment but Haru takes hold of his hand gently and runs a finger tenderly across his wrist. "I meant it forever. I'll love you forever." he blurts out, immediately regretting saying something so _weird_ and _awkward_  but Haru just smiles, a sweet placidity settling over his features. 

"I want you forever too." Haru admits, and he's a vision, the shirt slipping off his milky skin, clear blue eyes framed with the thickest, darkest eyelashes that Makoto has ever seen, and for a moment, he thinks his heart might stop just from being so near to him. 

"I never dreamed you'd be such a romantic," Makoto teases, the nervousness dispelled. 

"Shut up," Haru retorts self-consciously, averting his face to the side again to hide his eyes behind his fringe. But Makoto's having none of that. Not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  A lil visual for you guys :D


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry for all the lags in between chapters! There is so much I want to write but so many school essays that I do not want to write, and hence the contradiction and frustration of life is born :)) 
> 
> Anyway, hope a little MakoHaru makes your day better no matter how it's going because these two boys are ADORABLE AHH
> 
> Thank you to all of you lovely people who are still reading and leaving comments!! You guys are beautiful flower bombs

 

 

 

Haru is woken by the sound of his phone alarm beeping quietly under his pillow. With a stifled yawn, he tries to roll a little more on his side to fish it out but is trapped by a weight on his waist. They had gone to sleep yesterday spooning lightly, Haru's back against Makoto's chest and the larger man's arm wrapped comfortably around him. Not wanting to startle Makoto, he forgoes trying to squirm out of his grip and opts for shaking his shoulder gently.

"Makoto, hey Makoto," he whispers, and slowly, sleepy green eyes languidly peek open, just barely visible in the dark bedroom. "I need to go now, to make it for work, could you uh-" Instead of letting go though, Makoto tugs him closer and tucks his head in the curve where his shoulder meets his neck. Makoto's bedhead tickles, but Haru doesn't laugh when he hears the words Makoto murmurs into the coolness of his skin--so new, yet so comforting--before he lets Haru slip out of bed. 

Haru almost wishes that Makoto and him were more similar in size so that he wouldn't need to travel all the way home and back again when his office is just a walk away from where they are right now. But when he steps back into the dim bedroom and sees Makoto stretched out under the sheets, he takes all of that back. An hour more on the road is a very small price to pay to have Makoto just as he is. 

As he sandwiches a piece of grilled mackerel between two slices of bread to eat along the way, his phone vibrates in his pocket. He decides to check it later and hurriedly grabs his laptop and charger, shoves them in his bag and ties his shoelaces. When he's safely on the train, back pressed to another coat-wearing, harried office worker, face turned down to avoid smelling the over-gelled hair in front of him, he pulls his phone out, expecting something from his boss or an email from the board, but Makoto's name smiles up at him instead, making him tingle all over. 

**_07:00:23 From: Tachibana Makoto_ **

Morning Haru! ^^ Hope you have  a good day at work, I love you and miss you already <3 

His cheeks warm. _How does Makoto just voice his thoughts so easily?_ But oh, this man wants him--loves him, and Haru realises that there's nothing to be afraid of, or hold back. It feels right, so he pulls up the keyboard to tap out a reply, deciding not to filter himself for once or reread his message to censor it. His heart is racing like he's swimming the fastest 100m of his life as he presses send with his eyes squeezed shut. 

_**07:15:02 From: Haru** _

I want to kiss you again 

_**07:17:56 From: Tachibana Makoto** _

>.<

_**07:18:15 From: Tachibana Makoto** _

Can I take you out for dinner tonight? 

***

_Nanase-san, tomorrow's meeting for the contracts has been changed to this evening, 6 pm. Please be there 5 minutes early, thanks._

Haru stares at his computer screen in disbelief. The tone of the email leaves no room for disagreement and Haru knows he's been nothing but lucky so far--landing a good job, getting his first project (a prestigious, very visible one at that), and somehow not pissing anyone off yet. He doesn't want to push it. He picks up his phone with a sigh, sending a quick message to Makoto telling him to call when he can. It would be terribly insensitive to write him off with a text. 

Half an hour later, his phone buzzes to life when Haru is tidying up his file on the contracts for the meeting. "Haru," Makoto's voice sounds worried over the speaker. "Is everything okay? Are--what happened?" 

"Makoto," Haru interrupts his ramble. "Makoto," he says his name again and the other end of the line goes silent. "My boss just told me that we have a meeting at 6. It got shifted." Makoto lets out a small "oh" that weighs so heavily with disappointment and Haru feels the knife in his heart twist again. "I'm not really in the position to say no... fuck, I'm so sorry Makoto." Makoto is still quiet on his end so Haru barrels on. "I'll make it up to you I swear, I'm so sorry." 

"It's okay Haru," Makoto's bounces back, sounding like his usual upbeat self. "I understand, really, ... we can always go another day." Haru doesn't know what to say but he doesn't want to hang up yet so he just stays quiet, holding the phone to his ear. "Say Haru," Makoto's voice is quieter now, tender. "What time will the meeting end?" 

"About eight, I guess?" Haru says, running his hand through his hair and leaning back. 

"Are you eating dinner before?" Haru wonders why Makoto is being so detailed with his questions but goes along with it. "A snack, probably," he says. "I'll go home and eat after." 

"Okay then," Makoto replies. "I've got to go Haru, sorry I can't talk longer." 

"It's fine, I should be working too..." Haru wistfully tells him. He's about to bid him goodbye but the warm feeling blooms again in his chest as he imagines Makoto on the other end. "Love you Makoto," he says in a rush, before he can overthink it. 

"Love you too Haru!" comes the cheerful echo. 

***

Haru tries not to let himself hyperventilate. It's the first time he's leading a meeting with other professionals in the industry and their age and experience on him is frightening. _In, out, in, out._ He rises, thanks everyone and sets the agenda that he had planned after his call with Makoto. Some of the grey-haired engineers are eyeing him critically--fresh, young upstart, probably naive, probably arrogant--but Haru has learned to steel himself against that look. He's aware that his boss is taking a risk here by letting him be in charge, but Haru is confident that he will be able to prove himself worthy. He uses the even, measured way of speaking that he had cultivated in university that makes people listen and remember. They warm to him after an hour, when they realise he has no intention of flaunting, and Haru surprisingly finds himself enjoying the friendly, intellectual discussion around the table. But his thoughts wander ever so often to Makoto, still feeling guilty for ruining their plans and resolves to run to the florist at the mall and bring a lil' something to Makoto's door, at least to apologise. 

***

Makoto leans back on the lamppost nearest to the main entrance of Haru's office building. He checks his phone--7:50 pm. He had arrived five minutes ago just in case the meeting finished earlier and he missed Haru. As he stands alone with his hands tucked into his pockets, his mind drifts back to their time together the night before---Haru hovering awkwardly, shyly in the doorway of his bedroom, the way he had approached with gentle footsteps when Makoto had stretched out his hand in invitation to him. When he had tried wrapping his arm around his boyfriend and felt the familiar cloth of the t-shirt on his forearm, a rush of feeling had coursed through him like it does right now, knowing that Haru is probably acing the meeting like he does everything else. _His beautiful, capable, talented Haru._

His reverie is broken by the sound of the automated glass doors swishing open, and he quickly turns around and steps out from behind the lamppost. Haru is still bundled up in his dark blue coat, his employee's pass still hanging from his neck in the office's lanyard. "Haru!" Makoto calls out, taking a step forward, unable to stop a wide smile forming. Haru's head snaps up so fast, and for a few long seconds, his eyes widen and he stays stock still, stunned. Then, Makoto only momentarily registers Haru closing the few paces between them before Haru's body is pressed against his. "Makoto," the sound of Haru's voice is muffled against his chest. "I thought we could still eat something together?" Makoto murmurs, his arms resting on Haru's shoulderblades. "Oh my god, I can't believe you're real," Haru laughs and repeats his own words to him from the last time they were together. He raises his head to look at Makoto, and _oh,_ he is irresistible. In the crescent of shadow that falls over Haru, his eyes look even bigger, his skin a honeyed fairness. "Is anyone else coming out?" he whispers. 

"Nope, I was the only car-less peasant at the table," Haru replies blandly, but the humour twinkles in his midnight eyes. Makoto chuckles in response, then lovingly tilts Haru's chin up, lightly drawing him into his embrace again and watching closely for any signs of unwillingness. When their lips brush, Makoto feels like his head has been filled with all the colours of the sunset. The stutter in Haru's breath spurs him on, and he boldly nudges at the tiny space between Haru's lips with his tongue. Haru immediately opens for him, like a tide drawing Makoto in, pulling him under the restraint of rationality and stealing all the air he has borrowed. They part after three or four languid kisses, and Makoto's palms smooth down Haru's back and sides to clasp both his hands. "Let's go, Haru!" 

***

They wind up sitting on a bench at a darkened playground holding bentos from 7-Eleven. Haru's contains grilled saba and cold pickles, Makoto's has a piece of teriyaki salmon and a pile of grated daikon to go with their rice. "Hey Haru," Makoto pipes up, "uhm--you don't have to answer this if you don't want to but--" The pause makes Haru set down his chopsticks and secure them on the rim of the container with his thumb. "Mm?" he prompts a now silent Makoto who's biting his lip. "I uh--can you... tell me when you knew too?" The last few words have dropped so soft that Haru strains to catch them. 

He takes a moment to think through all the time they've spent together, from the first time he laid eyes on Makoto, to the other times that he had to struggle to keep his eyes off him... there wasn't a time specifically. Haru guesses he had slowly gotten to know since they day they met. But he knows it's an answer that will leave Makoto hanging. "I thought you were gorgeous the first time," he settles for a start. He watches Makoto carefully. "And honest, and creative, and excited about what you do." Makoto has resumed eating rice with his chopsticks but Haru knows he's paying attention. "And I thought of you that night, y'know?" He chews on a bite of his cold saba. 

"Really?" Makoto responds with a little laugh and pushes his glasses up his nose, looking at Haru slyly. "What about?" 

Haru flushes then. "It-nothing... I didn't think anything dirty!" he protests, indignantly knocking Makoto's elbow with his own. Makoto's laugh tinkles, light and mischievous. "You sure?" he teases, unable to resist the rare sight of a flustered Haru that is vaguely resembling a ruffled, put-out kitten. Haru shoves his shoulder into Makoto with a little more force than before, his brows knitted together. "Ne, Haruuuu..." Makoto draws his name out and quickly wipes his lips with a napkin before nuzzling into the crook of Haru's neck, placing a chaste kiss on his skin. He thinks this might be the most alluring part of Haru that he has gotten to know so far. 

"Oh, you're cozying up to me now huh," Haru says sarcastically but his hand reaches over to tangle in Makoto's hair, holding him to himself. He kisses him again and this time, Haru reciprocates the intimacy with a touch of his lips that lands half on his cheek and near his eye. "I missed you," Makoto mumbles, not sure whether Haru has heard him--or whether he even wants to be heard. He had thought that having Haru love him back would satisfy his every need and fill his heart to the brim over and over again, but ever since Haru had left his arms, all he had felt was a distracting yearning to see and touch him again. Is he shallow for including his physical desire into the mix? Should he focus on just being romantic and getting to know him better first? But the dust rising around his heart quickly clears when Haru's shoulder falls with his sigh. "I missed you too." 

Makoto leaves his head on Haru's shoulder as he asks quietly, "So how did the meeting go, Haru?"

"I think it was good," Haru replies, turning to gaze at Makoto, brushing the hair away from his forehead almost absentmindedly. "How 'bout you? How was work?"

"Well... I spent more time drawing today rather than doing the boring things like electricity and all that," Makoto says animatedly. "That was fun." 

"That's what I like about you," Haru says so quietly that Makoto almost doesn't catch it. But what he hears next catches him completely off guard. "I feel... Like you're so much more in love with what you do. Than I am."

"You don't like your job?" Makoto asks with a frown. "Are you unhappy?" Because _the universe forbid that be the case,_ he'll do anything to make Haru less unhappy if he _is_.

"Not exactly..." Haru seems to be choosing his words carefully as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees and cup his chin in his hands. "But I sometimes think like, what's the point y'know?" When Makoto makes a soft, affirmative sound for him to keep going, Haru sounds weary, like he's told himself this countless times and voicing them again makes this like every other night. "I'm gonna get that building planned but it's under the board's name, the board will name it, and people will know it by that name and," 

_I won't be remembered._ Makoto hears in the quietness of Haru abandoning the sentence completely. "Well I guess," he starts, opting for a lighter tone that won't betray how worried he is that Haru will lose motivation. "You can just think of this as practice? Until you set up your company with the signature?" 

The very fact that Makoto still remembers that little thing he told him is enough for Haru to put aside the tiredness for a while and just enjoy having Makoto to be with and talk to. "Yeah." He'll get there someday. And he'll make sure that doing what he loves day and night will be unsullied by the politics and hierarchies that hold him by his collar. 

"If you're ever upset about these things again you can tell me yeah?" Makoto says, giving his shoulder a warm squeeze. "Don't just keep them to yourself." 

They say their goodbyes at the intersection, Haru secretly wishing that he could just sleep over again in the other man's bed but knowing that it wouldn't be practical, and Makoto wishing that he had something to lend his boyfriend in the morning. They continue to shyly hold hands after words have died out, unwilling to let go. "I love you Haru", Makoto finally sighs as he pulls him into a hug, holding his head against his chest and stroking his hair. "-don't-" Haru's voice is muffled. "Hmm?" Makoto asks, releasing him.

"Home," Haru says, shaking his head a little to settle his fringe. "I don't wanna go home." Makoto is about to melt with how _cute_ he looks pouting when Haru just utterly destroys him. "I don't want you to go home either." 

Makoto pulls him close again and laughs with his cheek in his hair, feeling like the richest, safest person in the world with Haru in his arms. 


	16. overcome me baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO :D guess who's back  
> I'm sorry this chapter took so long to come up (what's new), but I swear this time it was because I was actually planning out the story (.... aaaannnnddd maybe watching Junjou Romantica on the bus instead of writing)  
> But that being said, enjoy the fulfilment of the eventual smut tag with some Haru solo sexy fun ;) 
> 
> Also. Some of you may have noticed that I'm in the process of actually naming my chapters. Forgives.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed this and/ or have suggestions for me! They really make me more motivated to write which also translates to better writing hehe

Makoto's touch lingers beautiful.

Haru flops down on his bed with a sigh, laying flat and trying to sort through the mess of thoughts running through his head. _In love._ He would have never guessed himself to be such a hopeless closet romantic. ( _He actually thought of buying him flowers._ _Flowers. What._ ) But Makoto makes him want to do everything, to think of every possible way to ignite the same sparks in his chest and keep them alive.

He finds himself smiling a little. A stirring in his stomach and involuntary clenching of muscles draws his hand from his forehead almost unconsciously down to rest just above the button of his pants. Why not? He had never been one to deny himself after all.

Stripping down to his boxers quickly (there's no point in delaying it seeing as he'll need to get there eventually), the memory of Makoto's arms and shoulders are already enough to quicken his heartbeat. Tall, strong, with that gentle smile that makes Haru want to do everything possible to keep it there. He imagines what their first time together will be like, what Makoto's beautiful voice will sound like panting in his ear, letting loose the delectable sounds that he had given Haru a taste of the previous night.

Makoto's mouth is full, yet delicately curved, his lips tenderly persuasive. Haru moves up in his mind's eye to his cheekbones that are cut so sharply when Haru sneaks a side peek at him. High forehead and a straight nose, long, thick eyelashes that frame his expressive eyes to make him look innocent and enchanting at the same time...

 _So handsome._ Haru had never thought of himself that way--attractive, yes, (judging by gossip and the stares he sometimes gets on the train) but not classically boyish like Makoto. His hand has begun to sneak its way under his shirt, treating himself to light circles on his stomach drawn with all five fingers. Makoto's kisses are impossibly gentle, still clumsy but full of sincerity that Haru imagines taste slowly, slowly as Makoto takes him apart with his lips and tongue alone. He wants Makoto to surround him, to let his hands wander, to _take_ everything Haru has and teach him how to have more to give.

It's nothing like he's felt before. He wants to feel it forever.

He wonders how Makoto's abs will feel under his fingers as he slowly traces their every bump, the firmness of his chest and the way his hips and v-line will tense when his back arches...  He begins stroking his own inner thigh. Closing his eyes, it's not difficult to pretend that it's Makoto wanting him, Makoto's body against his. Haru suddenly feels a need to submit to him, let him throw him around with his strength and use him to seek pleasure. _Yes_.

"Makoto..." He lets slip in a breathy sigh. The Makoto in his mind is smiling darkly, suggestively. Powerful, allowing the iron grip in him that hides below that gentle smile to surface. _Makoto sits on his bed, pulling Haru into his lap to rest against his broad chest, head on his shoulder. He gently tugs his shirt off, and his warm palms smooth down his arms, doing a cursory sweep of his thighs and coming back up to brush against his nipples._ Haru flicks his own thumbs over them, feeling them pebble and start to harden. Still playing with them, Haru lets his other hand trail softly down the line of sensitive skin on his side, over his ribs and down to his hips. As his breathing starts to become heavier, he imagines Makoto putting his mouth on his chest. " _You have such pretty nipples, Haru... see how they react?" He hikes Haru higher up, then bends over his shoulder to lap teasingly at his skin. "Do you like it when I suck here?" Haru answers with a whimper, his back arching to push his chest forward into the wet, addictive heat of Makoto's tongue. It borders on painful, but it's so, so good and Haru relishes in the soreness._ "Mako..." He breathes out as he hastily rolls onto his side to grab the bottle of lube in his drawer and squeeze some into his palm. He slips his hand between his legs and fondles his balls but still avoids his cock, the way the dominant Makoto he imagines does. Rolling his heavy sac in his palm, his hips buck up a little, wanting more, more. _"Be a good boy, Haru,"_ the voice sounds in his head again. _His capable hands reach to the underside of Haru's thighs, nudging them further apart and pushing his own legs in between. Makoto's own cock is hard, warm where it's pressed to Haru's back and Haru desperately wants to lift himself higher, to rub it against his ass and give Makoto pleasure but his boyfriend won't let him._ One of his fingers reaches behind to press gently on the sensitive roughness between his balls and his hole. Unable to resist any longer, he takes hold of his cock with his other hand, letting out a moan. What will it be like to touch Makoto, to feel the velvety heat in his palm, to coax him to hardness? Squeezing near the head, he gathers the lube that remains on his balls and gives his length a firm stroke that shatters all his inhibitions. _Makoto's hands are on his waist, stroking his skin and Haru's legs fall apart at Makoto's widening of his own with no resistance, exposing everything to Makoto for him to touch._ He forces his hips to stay down while he wraps tighter his fingers around his erection and imagines Makoto's big, warm hand splaying possessively across his stomach, holding him.

" _That's it, good boy", Makoto praises. His lips curve in a smile on his neck, his fingers come up to play with his nipples that must be swollen by now. Haru slumps back into his strong, broad chest, his stomach twitching as he pleasures himself for Makoto to see._ "Fuck, Makoto..." he groans, feeling his entrance twitch and clench with arousal but knowing there isn't time to take it all the way today. _"Do you want my cock, Haru?" Makoto asks huskily into his ear. His breath is hot, and his tongue traces slowly along the shell of his ear and down his jaw._ "Y-yes... I want it Makoto, please-" he gasps and shuts his eyes against embarrassment, focusing only on the pleasure running through his mind and veins like liquid flame. He wants to know how it feels like to have Makoto twitching against him, to have his pre-cum drip into his mouth... _Oh god._

 _"Suck," Makoto pulls his boxers down and his thick length curves up beautifully, flushed and erect. Haru's eyes trail a drop of pre-cum oozing from the head, his head dipping forward to catch it on his tongue. He's never sucked cock in his life but he wants to learn... Makoto rests heavy and musky in his mouth, and he wants to worship it, bob his head like he's seen in porn and make Makoto moan out loud._ He's panting now, as he fucks into his fist. "Fuck, _fuck-k..."_ He's pent up from the night before where he had gotten all hot and bothered but couldn't do anything about it even though Makoto--the subject of his fantasies--was _right there_. _Makoto pulls him up for a kiss, full of love like all those before, but messy, with the sloppy sounds of them tasting each other._ "I love you," Haru groans, slack-jawed and pliable. "I love you Makoto." His own voice sounds weak and breathless, even to his own ears and really, he would be mortified if he was in this state for anyone else but Makoto. His cock is aching with every thrust, faster, faster. _"You're doing so well Haru," Makoto croons. "Take my cock again." Haru complies with a shameless sob and thrust of his hips to rub against the sheets. "Does it taste that good?" Makoto chuckles, nudging a finger into his mouth next to his thick cock. Haru tries to nod but he can't manage it, so he settles for a blissed out moan as an answer. "Fuck!" Makoto hoarsely grits out, and he slips his hand clumsily into Haru's hair, holding him still as he rocks into his welcoming warmth. "You feel... so good, Haru... Haru!" Haru moans again around the cock in his throat, feeling his muscles spasm._

 _He'd be so big..._ _Makoto slowly inches into him, his abs and forearms taut from holding back and Haru trails a weak hand down his muscular torso as he pants and adjusts. Makoto's eyes are clouded over with lust, and he gathers Haru up in his arms, letting him slump against him, his arms wrapped protectively over his back. Makoto's skin smells like the cologne he wears, with the salty scent of sweat made stronger by the curses Makoto chokes out under his breath._ Haru's strokes become faster, the wet slapping of his foreskin in his grip and the lube providing a lewd soundtrack to the scenes playing out in his head. _He takes Makoto to the hilt, full of Makoto's throbbing cock that twitches inside him. He'd be on his back to spread his entire body out for Makoto's viewing, his head hanging back and bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat. "Let me hear your sounds, Haru..." Makoto groans as he pulls out slowly, and thrusts back in harder than before. Haru's hips buck and he moans, a sound that he would be ashamed of, but one that Makoto has coaxed out of him by demanding complete submission. "You're trembling, Haru-" Makoto is still coherent, but harsh pants escape his throat and his eyes are half lidded. Fuck, his boyfriend is gorgeous--all long, sinewy lines and tan skin, broad and sturdy. He makes Haru feel like he's made of porcelain: meant for Makoto to break apart, and put back together again time after time after time. "You're so beautiful, taking me like that. Does it feel good?"_

"M-Mako... feels, _ah!_ Feels so good, Makoto..." _Haru's back arches as he feels Makoto's cock grow again within him, pressing against his walls and catching on the swollen rim of his used hole with every thrust._

The familiar pressure and build in his lower stomach and balls warn him of his impending release and his mind churns out images on its own accord--the flexing of Makoto's v-line when he rocks his hips, the slickness of lube coating between both their legs and the sweat running down their backs...  _The_ _hoarse shout of Haru's name as Makoto shows his lewdest, most intimate expression for him and only him, the_ _warm wetness of Makoto's cum coating the inside of his body, then seeping slowly out of him with every involuntary clench of his muscles around that thick cock._ His climax hits him like a train at midnight, his toes curling, spurting cum in white streaks onto his stomach.  _Makoto will look him over in satisfaction, at how unashamedly wrecked he is._ His entire body shakes with another shudder as he coaxes his pleasure to its end. Sinking back onto the mattress with a sigh, Haru lets his mind drift in the white space of post-orgasm. For all his dirty imagination, Haru has only been well acquainted with his own hand--not interested in girls, and too stand-offish to have been close to anyone other than Rin. And Rin and him, well, they've never been anything more than rivals in the pool and friends out--he would have never even entertained the possibility and that was only made clearer when Sousuke appeared.

So Makoto. Is a very different ball game. One that Haru can't wait to play. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sprays confetti* If you're still here, thanks for reading! I understand that the story is quite long and I really meant it when I said slow build haha but I hope you're still happy with the plans I have for these two boys! :D
> 
> Also, my friend coaxed me into writing some Reigisa romance in this soooooo

"So Makoto-senpai, how's work?"

"It's okay-"

"Ne, how are things with Haru-chan?" Nagisa interrupts cheekily, wiggling his eyebrows in the most inappropriate manner for this conversation. "Made a move yet?" 

"Haru...-chan?" Makoto can only manage to get out between trying to close his mouth (which is probably gaping open with how his jaw dropped) and stop himself from blushing. Three minutes into the call and they've already got to this point. Makoto actually thinks it's quite an optimistic statistic compared to their real life conversations. "Nagisa-kun!" Rei bursts out in exasperation at his non-existent etiquette. "Don't ask that! And don't interrupt!"

"Yup! Because Mako-chan, you're obviously gonna woo him, right?" Comes the earnest, excited reply, completely oblivious to Rei's concern. "And then we'll become friends too! And of course I can ask Mako-chan about his love life, Rei-chan, we're best friends!"

Makoto realises this might be a good time to cut in. "Ah, about that,"  he chuckles bashfully and scratches the back of his head. "I'm sorry I didn't tell the two of you earlier but..." Nagisa's widened eyes directed at him and only at him make him lose his nerve for a second. "Uh well, we are... That is, I'm dating him." When no sound comes over the speakers, Makoto clears his throat awkwardly. "Now."

"You're dating Haru-chan?" Nagisa is flabbergasted. "What? When? How?" Before Makoto can even begin answering, Nagisa starts to wave his hands wildly around his face, almost smacking Rei in the process. "How could you have hid this from us, Mako-chan! How long have you two been together!"

"Sorry, sorry," Makoto laughs and unconsciously attempts to shield himself from Nagisa's over-enthusiastic reaction. "Not very long...it's been about two weeks now."

"Amazing. So who confessed?" Nagisa demands. 

"Well... It's hard to say 'cos I sang... to him but he uh, he said it first."

That vague answer surprisingly satisfies Nagisa. "So." The bubbly blond has slipped into Mama Mode. "Is he nice?"

"He's very nice," Makoto says, feeling his ears turn hot.

"Sexy?" Makoto hears Rei groan in second-hand embarrassment and almost bursts out laughing at how uncomfortable his kouhai must be discussing these things. "Very," he decides to play along, drawing out the vowel and flicking the tone up at the end. Nagisa chortles in delight at finally getting his calm, collected senpai to admit to being mortal man after all.

"Ooooh, have you guys, y'know..." Nagisa punctuates his sentence with an artful placing of a hand behind his head and a little body roll, giggling. Makoto is suddenly more aware than he has ever been before of his virgin status. Red, meanwhile, is occupied with turning the colour of a lobster and hiding his face behind his hands with woeful shakes of his head.

"N-no," he blurts out, embarrassed.

"Does he still swim as fast?" Rei enquires with a nudge of his glasses. (Honestly, Makoto still doesn't really get why he has to do that--his glasses literally _never_ slip off but it's cute to see how some parts of Rei always stay the same.) "I... don't know," Makoto admits. "We don't race cos it's different strokes and I haven't done the front crawl for so long and he refuses to do back, so..." 

"That doesn't matter," Nagisa waves them off confidently. "All that matters is that he wants to swim with Mako-chan!" Makoto tries to form a reply that isn't an internal meltdown but he's pretty sure he's not succeeding.  

"He must be amazing to swim with," Rei agrees mildly with a quirked smile. "And Makoto-senpai, you used to have a crush on him in high school anyway." 

"And now you have him!" Nagisa exclaims admiringly before Makoto can throw out a defense that _he had not been that obvious and it was just the buzz of competition, thank you very much._  "Good for you, Mako-chan, bring him to meet us one day yeah?"

***

"Rei-chan," Nagisa starts softly, a complete change of character from his boisterous self after they hang up the Skype call.

"Hmm?" Rei responds as the blonde moves close to wrap his arms around his waist and lean his head on his shoulder.  "I'm glad we found each other in high school." Nagisa says, pressing an affectionate kiss to his jaw. "Mako-chan was kinda lonely before he had Haru-chan, wasn't he?"

"Yeah," Rei sighs, pushing his glasses up his nose. "It's good that he's found someone to spend time with." Another sigh escapes him. "But I really wish you wouldn't do that, Nagisa-kun, just asking him about his life like that. He needs space and privacy too, y'know?" 

"Ah, that..." Nagisa untangles himself from the gangly frame of his boyfriend. "I'm sorry Rei-chan, I didn't know it was that annoying, it's just-" his voice dies out then, and Rei feels the sofa dip with his weight as he settles down. "I'm really so happy for Mako-chan, Rei-chan, remember that time when he was so woozy about him at the nationals?" 

Rei laughs a little at the thought. How can he forget? Makoto was out of it for a month after the competition, searching Nanase Haruka up on Google and Youtube just to marvel at his timings and exchanges during relays. He had mused non-stop about the aversion of the swimmer to the spotlight after he had set that record, asking Rei what he thought so many that Rei was sure Makoto wasn't even keeping track of how much he was thinking about the other boy. Nagisa had donned his usual dramatism and raved about how there could be a chance midnight encounter on the streets, or the cliche but highly effective 'I'm so sorry I crashed into you, please allow me to pick up all your stuff and let our hands brush' scenario in one of the many hallways. And Makoto had just laughed along instead of brushing it off as he used to do when he got teased about girls. He guesses it's safe to say none of them were expecting _this_ to happen. Hell, he would never have guessed that Makoto still buried the feeling deep inside his heart all this while through high school and uni. "Yeah, Makoto-senpai really deserves this happiness," Rei says with a nod of his head. "He would have wanted someone sooner or later anyway..." 

"Rei-chan?" Nagisa pipes up thoughtfully again. "Thanks for making me not lonely." A year ago, Rei would have sputtered and rapidly changed the subject but time spent with Nagisa has softened his edges, smoothing them into smiles. "I'm, uh, glad to have you too," he replies with a little awkward smile. Come to think of it, they hadn't had such a tender moment for a while now, and Rei feels slightly guilty because he's always too busy pursuing his Masters degree to the point where he sometimes takes Nagisa's presence at home for granted. "You make life... more beautiful." He musters up the courage to seal the sweet deal.

What he doesn't expect though, is for Nagisa to make it sweeter by climbing into his lap and giving him a lingering kiss on his lips. " _Rei-channnn._.. " What little contemplation that Nagisa seemed to be capable of is gone, replaced by that saucy, playful tone again, and Rei willingly yields to the current pulling him under.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YO PEOPLE :D I'm terribly sorry for the delay, but I had quite the opposite of writers' block the other day and was trying to figure out how the plot could be written to accommodate all the ideas I had haha so this got put on the backburner for a while. 
> 
> If you're still here on this journey with me, thank you so much for your love and support--your comments and kudos really make me feel like there's a purpose for writing and help me find the happiness in sharing my work :) Please do continue leaving them if you enjoy this! (Also, you might have noticed that I'm having a little bit of problem titling my chapters so please let me know if you have an idea for this hhahahaha)
> 
> My next chapter is mostly written so if all goes well you can expect an update within the next week or so! ~~I hope you guys like Sourin smut because that's something that's going in there~~ (I think I've said this before but then again my chapter will become obscenely long the day before I decide to post and so... yeah I am trying harder.)

Makoto is beginning to think that his eyeballs will literally melt into a radioactive puddle in their sockets if he stares at the computer screen a minute longer. He rubs over his eyes and temples, trying to ease the tension in them and stop his brain from thinking so loudly for once. Today is a tedious day, trying to figure things out and get his head round logistics and how to best use space with Haru's... unique building shape that seems to present difficulties in creating large open areas. 

The past eight weeks have flashed by in a blur of texts, work meetings (Makoto swears Har- _Nanase-san_ is trying to tease a reaction out of him every time he coyly arches a brow and calls him by his family name), swim and gym dates on Saturdays (which Makoto has always gone to sleep on Friday nights full of anticipation for because _damn_ , Haru sweating and using the benchpress, the way the collar of his shirt drops when they're doing core training opposite each other exposing the taut muscles of his stomach, his fringe fanning out around him as he floats with his eyes closed in the pool, is just pure eye-candy that Makoto is 99% sure Haru is deliberately letting him enjoy.) But there are the cute parts too--Haru helping him change the weights on the machines when they take turns, religiously showering before entering the pool... Makoto will never forget how Haru's brows knitted together and his tone became almost threatening when a couple of guys that were in the gym together with them had simply cannonballed into the calm, blue water with gusto. " _How could anyone even imagine making the pool dirty on purpose!"_ He laughs even now thinking about how Haru had simply marched out of the showers and started changing into street clothes with his nose in the air, refusing to even dip his toes into the " _poor defiled pool_ " and grumbling all their way out until Makoto kissed the irritation away. Haru is all that he'd ever dreamed of, and more, so much more. 

But making a living waits for no man. Even though the man is in love and cannot bring himself to actually concentrate. And even though the living that is to made is rather boring at the moment. He forces himself back to the task before him once more. Just an hour more before he can walk out of this place, before he can roll up his sleeves and settle back home with a warm dinner and the comfort of silence. 

He's itching to have the feel of Haru's skin beneath his fingertips again, his mouth on Haru's and the softness of his cheek cradled in his palm. They'd explored a little more, their lips tracing wet, breathless trails from each other to throats, earlobes, shoulders exposed by pushing away the collars of t-shirts. He had tentatively slid his hands under Haru's shirt to caress his back and _oh,_ the way Haru shuddered gently under his searching fingers makes heat blossom under his skin again. The bumps of his spine in a straight, even line, the tender nape of his neck, the planes of muscle that spread leanly between his shoulderblades... Makoto had mapped them all, drawn the shaky lines of a map that led to guileless temptation. 

Makoto sighs again. 

***

"Hello?" He sandwiches the phone between his ear and shoulder as he wipes his face off with a towel. "Haru?" Makoto's voice drifts happily over the speaker. "Are you free right now?"

"Yeah, I just finished washing up... Why?"

"I just... I really missed your voice... so I was hoping we could chat a while," Makoto confesses shyly, his face heating. Gosh, what if Haru thought he was being clingy or immature? Or what if Haru wanted to sleep?

But Haru's laugh is light and comforting. "Okay," he says simply. "What do you wanna talk about?" He drapes the towel back on its rack 

"Anything but work," Makoto laughs back and lies down on his bed with a contented groan. "Let's just see where the conversation takes us, yeah?"

"Okay," Haru agrees. "Mm... Could you tell me more about where you come from?"

"Iwatobi?" Makoto says in surprise. "It's a small town... Next to the sea. I think I already told you that." He closes his eyes and lets his mind drift to the sights and scenes of his childhood home. "Nothing exciting really happens other than the yearly festival where they have stalls and fireworks... but it's peaceful, and most of the people know each other somehow," he breaks off, aware that he can faintly hear Haru's breathing through the speakers and it's soothing and intimate in a way, like his boyfriend is lying just beside him. "There are stray cats everywhere, and a lady who sells mochi feeds a few at night... And then I hugged Miki-chan home."

"Makoto," Haru edges in once he finishes his sentence. "Your parents... what are they like?" 

"Ah," Makoto says, "My mum... she cooks really well, but sometimes she gets so absorbed with searching for new recipes that I'd find her sitting on the floor in a corner next to the wall socket and still on Google or Youtube..." He drifts off, the image of his mother resurfacing again in his mind and making him smile fondly. "Like a big kid really." He thinks a little more for interesting things. "And she stores the weirdest things in her brain... old kids' program songs, advertisement jingles... And she'll start singing them randomly when she's really tired at night." He hears Haru's mild chuckle from the other end. 

"And your dad?" Haru asks, wistfully curious. It must be nice to know your mother so well... to have been able to see her every day after school, to have her to laugh with rather than roommates who had never really cared. 

"My dad is really good at fixing things," Makoto says after a beat. "We rarely bought new things for the house because he always bought spare parts to keep everything working... I didn't really know if it if was kinda annoying or super helpful when I was younger," Makoto breaks of with a laugh, hearing Haru's huff of air. "I mean, Haru, everything in our house is older than me! Like, how do you even--" 

"It's good," Haru remarks stretching out more on his bed. "It leaves more money for food. Like mackerel." 

Makoto can't help but snort at his boyfriend's one-track mind. "Yes, yes, Haru... I guess I need you to knock this kind of sense into me, yeah?"

"Yeah you need me." Haru states a little sulkily at Makoto laughing at his serious point about mackerel. But he waits for Makoto's giggling to die down before adding quickly, his heart pounding. "And I need Makoto too." The mood abruptly shifts, and Makoto feels an overwhelming happiness burst in his chest. "Let's always need each other, Haru," he whispers. He thinks, if this mutual dependence ever expires, it'll be on Haru's part because Haru is so beautiful, so intelligent that Makoto will probably be the one left hanging on. He'd never actually tell Haru, but the possibility that this happiness is short-lived terrifies him. 

"So... your parents..." Haru starts, so quietly that he doesn't even break the silence. "Have you told them about me?"  

There is a tinge of fear, of hesitance in Haru's voice that makes Makoto want to gather him in his arms and hold him. "Yeah, I told them that I'd met someone," he answers carefully, afraid of startling him. "I told them that you were the swimmer I was crazy about in high school and my mum almost had a heart attack," laughing a little at the memory of how his mother's jaw had dropped in utter disbelief. Haru relaxes a little. If Makoto can laugh about it... that means... 

"So they're okay with you dating a guy?" Haru clarifies bluntly. 

"Huh?" Makoto stops short. "Yeah, yeah, they're fine with it... But they want me to get you on skype one day for them to meet you." Haru is quiet for so long that Makoto starts to worry. "Is... is that okay?" 

Haru doesn't answer for a long moment, and Makoto starts to feel his heartbeat in his ears. "Yeah," he finally says, "but I'll probably be awkward, and-" 

"Nah, they'll love you Haru." Makoto cuts in, brimming with hope. He can't wait to share the person he's steadily grown to love with the rest of the important people in his life and let Haru know that he's the best choice in the eyes of everyone who matters. "You're perfect." 

"I'm not," Haru argues back but Makoto has been with him long enough to hear the tinge of a smile in his voice. "Yes you are," Makoto repeats with a contented sigh, throwing his arms up behind his head, all lazily spread out. "And I love you." 

"Oh god," Haru rolls his eyes and groans with mock-frustration, but a warmth spreads in his chest with happiness at Makoto just stating things like that out in the open, with no ambiguity or question. "What, aren't you going to say it back?" Makoto asks cheekily. "What happened to my romantic man who confessed to me in public?" 

"Don't push it." Haru warns, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. "And don't call me your man. Sounds weird." 

"My boyfriend then?" Makoto tries, cheerfully undeterred. "My romantic boyfriend who confessed to me in public!" 

"Whatever," Haru mumbles, but he rolls onto his side, his arm tucked underneath him to press the phone to his ear. But the silence that slips in to hang between them reminds him that Makoto is still waiting for his answer. He doesn't know what it is about phones that chokes up his words and makes him unable to say what his heart is truly telling him to--maybe it's being unable to see Makoto's face and predict his reactions that makes him feel more vulnerable, or just the oddness of _actually kinda like talking to no one?_ (He still doesn't know why he feels that way either.) "I-" he begins, softly and with nervousness making his throat feel swollen and hot. "Makoto, I-" 

"Hmm?" Makoto hums into his ear, a little drowsy, gentle and sweet. It gives him courage. "L-Love you... Makoto," he quickly murmurs, hugging his knees and curling into a ball as if that makes anything less embarrassing. His stomach makes a crazily wild turn, like he's just gone zooming down the tip of a roller coaster and it makes his feet tingle like they've fallen asleep.   

Makoto lets out a long sigh then, and Haru thinks that perhaps, he has disappointed after all. An apology rises stutteringly to the tip of his tongue but Makoto beats him to words. "I love you too Haru," he replies seriously. 

_Lovers._ The meaning of that word slowly sinks into Haru's bones. "Makoto," Haru says, because he feels like it's the only thing he knows how to say at this point. "Makoto, would you... like to go on a date together?" 

"Sure Haru," Makoto says gaily. He wonders where this is coming from, but decides that it's more fun not to ask. "You decide the place." 

"Don't you want to choose?" Haru asks doubtfully. He wants Makoto to be truly happy with where they go instead of just following along.

"Anywhere with you is a fun place," Makoto shakes his head even though he knows Haru can't see him and turns on his side with a sigh. "Just choose a place you want to go to and surprise me!" 

"Okay," Haru replies, the cogs of his mind turning. "Okay, I'll surprise you." 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so.  
> Thank you for sticking with me so far and for all your kudos and comments on this fic! I'm really putting my heart and soul into these babes haha so it's wonderful to have all of you on the ride :D I hope you enjoy this one.

When the obnoxiously nasal, cheerful sounds of _Gude-tama-tama_  ring out from where Rin's phone has been carelessly thrown under the sofa cushions, the Yamasuoka household knows that a certain someone is calling.

_"Hello?"_

"Rin," Haru greets and cuts to the chase. "Have you changed my ringtone yet." He can even bring himself to bother glorifying the question with the suitable interrogative mark. 

"Jeez Haru where are your manners!" Rin remarks offhandedly. "And nope, it's there to stay, it's there forever. You should have realised that when you decided to try on full-length legskins that time." 

"You offensive shit," Haru exhales loudly. 

"Whatever," Rin dismisses him with a wave of his hand even though he knows he can't be seen. "What's up?"

Haru figures it'll be better to ask it quick, like pulling off a band-aid. Not that it's gonna hurt any less. "Where is a good place for a date?" 

"A DATE?!" Rin straightens up and screeches so suddenly that Haru jerks the phone away from his ear by instinct. His voice then settles into a rumble that's slightly intimidating. "THE HECK HARU, WHO ARE YOU DATING."

"Uhm." Haru replies eloquently. _No one_ is his knee-jerk reaction but he realises how stupid it would sound in that same split second. "Uhm, someone... I met?"

"No way..." Rin wolf whistles through the phone and Haru can _hear_ the toothy grin in his words. "I never dreamed the day would come when a person would be so blind as to fall for your flat ass, Haruka."

"Excuse you," Haru bristles. But god, he'd missed the kind of teasing they always threw around when they talked. Another huff escapes him. 

"Pshhhhh," Rin blows air out through his teeth. "What's his name?"

"Tachibana," Haru replies shortly. He feels like he still needs to keep a part of Makoto to himself, away from Rin's prying, not unlike the feeling when he came out to his best friend. 

"Cute," Rin remarks but Haru knows he's not really focusing--he would probably be more occupied with browsing through his mind to see if he knows anyone named Tachibana. "How did you guys meet?"

"He's... an interior designer," Haru replies, switching the phone to his left hand while he rummages through his drawer to lay out socks for the next day.

"Shucks man," Rin replies jovially. "Is he from work?" He's dying to ask what this Tachibana is like, how long they've been together, why Haru never mentioned it till now, since when Haru had even gotten over Hirose (because as far as he knows, that boy can hold on to a crush longer than most people hold grudges). But Haru reminds him of a marionette that's barely dancing sometimes, with a body made of china that still bears the hairline cracks of his childhood. And for all their banter and insults thrown around,  Rin had always tried to keep himself in check around him. "So now you're being all romantic and shit huh." 

Haru is pretty surprised that Rin doesn't ask further, but he's grateful, in a way. This whole thing is just so new and raw for him that he doesn't even know how he would even begin to explain it. 

"That's why I'm asking you, idiot. I'm trying to be."

"Okay, okay" Rin sits up straight. "This is serious business now." Haru doesn't even dignify him with a response.

"I guess... You have to know what he likes first? Like Sou, he hates horror right, so I wouldn't bring him to a haunted house. Y'know?"

"Mm, he seems pretty adventurous to me..." Haru replies thoughtfully, trying to remember all their conversations and draw out something from there. "But he doesn't like the ocean... So that's out."

"He doesn't like water?" Rin asks in disbelief. He wouldn't have thought that Haru would even _forgive_ someone who didn't love water, let alone _fall in love_ with them. "Seriously?!"

"It's just the ocean he doesn't like," Haru sounds disinterested, far away on the surface but there's a groundsheet of care spread under his words. "But he swims."

"Ooh, what stroke?"

"Back." Haru states.

"Whoa, is he any good?"

"Better than most," Haru makes his way over to his sofa so he can lie down across its length. "We've gone swimming every week." There's a little feeling of pride that Makoto--his boyfriend, is so accepted by the water and he doesn't bother to push it down.

"Nice," Rin replies. "So I guess that rules an aquatic centre or anything like that out right?" He hopes to god Haru won't ask why, or he's really done for in terms of romance. "Maybe you could look for some game that you guys could watch live together?"

"But that would kinda be like... Like we'd be watching the game and not talking it's not-" It's a good point for a relationship that's just taking off, not a seasoned one like his and Sousuke's where their idea of a date sometimes is literally just staying in bed on Saturday mornings for four hours drifting in and out of sleep and yet knowing that the other person doesn't mind at all. Rin abandons the idea.

"Disneyland?" Rin throws out another idea casually. "There's lots of couple-y stuff to do there I think. If that's what you want."

"We could," Haru says slowly, thinking hard. "But wouldn't that be quite childish?"

Rin's admittance is reluctant to say the least. _He_ had wanted to see Mickey and Minnie when he was young and starry-eyed in love after all. (Not that he isn't still, now, but.) And Sousuke had brought him, which resulted in him having his first public kiss on a carousel. (He'll never forget how they had somehow neglected to notice a small boy sitting next to them and just permanently scarred him for life. Because Sousuke. And tongue.) And he's always felt strongly about Disney being the prime franchise to propagate love. Evidently Haru doesn't feel the same way.

"Or you could give me your ideas? And I'll tell you what I think?"

"Hmm or what about... " Haru's pauses. "Universal Studios."

"Osaka?" Rin remarks in surprise. "But you'd have to spend at least three days on it... The travelling and _oh._.. oh Haru, that's totally the point isn't it!" His doubtful frown splits off into laughter at the thought of Haru being _devious_ , that sneaky shit, and Sousuke looks up from his phone where he's seated at the table. Rin just waves him off, mouthing _I'll tell you later._ "Oi," Haru grumbles in his ear but doesn't deny it, Rin notes.

"Well I guess if you wanna have lots of excuses to hold his arm and take photos and all that stuff it's a good idea," Rin laughs again. "It would be fun, I think."

"It-it's fine right?" Haru asks again, sounding adorably nervous. Rin feels like  a mother advising her first son on a date. "I really need this... to work."

"It'll be so good if you can plan everything for both of you, Haru" Rin assures him, all teasing gone. "Don't worry."

"Rin-" Haru starts, unsure of himself. "When you... y'know... do it.... Will it, uh-mm... y'know,"

"Hurt?" Rin supplements. "I'm not gonna lie man it'll hurt like a bitch." Haru is silent. "How big is the guy?"

"Uh-" Haru croaks. "Maybe... Maybe only a little smaller than Sousuke?"

"Ouch," Rin says before he can catch himself. "It hurt for like, what, three days the first time." Sousuke's interest is sufficiently perked by now, and comes over to sink into the sofa beside Rin. "Wait I-" Rin presses the mute button on his phone and quickly turns to Sousuke. "It's Haru, he's uh... asking about sex. Would you mind? If I, y'know-gave him advice?"

"Nanase?" Sousuke's eyebrow arches in surprise. "Yeah, I guess, just don't..."

"Yeah I'm gonna keep it so G-rated," Rin cuts in, knowing what Sousuke is worried about and gives him a peck on the side of his mouth. "Thanks babe."

He turns the speaker back on. "Yeah Haru, uhm well... the only thing I can say is to use lots of lube... And condoms. Like seriously. Use them." Haru hums in acknowledgement. "And Haru-just, I'm not implying anything but just... Make sure he's someone you can trust, okay? Like, he has to be someone who'll stop the moment you say so," Rin sighs, feeling at a loss at how to make sure Haru will be okay. "It's important." They talk for a while more, with Rin fussing over how much mackerel Haru insists on consuming, asking him about his boss and trying to cajole Haru to try wearing something that _isn't_ a plain colour and made of cotton or denim. It still kinda baffles Sousuke actually, he would have thought that someone so artistic would have a few ideas of his own about style but evidently Nanase Haruka isn't one of those hipster types. 

"Did I really hurt you that badly back then?" Sousuke asks low and gruff once Rin hangs up. "God, I'm sorry."

"Nah it's fine" Rin scoots over to lay his head on Sousuke's shoulder. "It was so worth it." Sousuke snorts then, bemusedly shaking his head. He shifts subtly so that Rin falls into the crook of his side, and drapes his arm around his shoulders, feeling the sharpness of his collarbones under his forearm and tangling his fingers in red hair that's starting to grow a little too long again. "It felt good, at least?" Sousuke asks, not sure why he's feeling so affectionate all of a sudden. Maybe it's the sight of Rin sitting cross-legged on the sofa giving advice-- _his little spitfire actually giving advice--_ or how he hears Rin include him in all his conversations so naturally like both their lives have intertwined to become one. Or maybe it's the realisation of how far they've come--all of Rin's advice come from experience after all, and how all their edges have been smoothed and mellowed by the years they've spent together. He still remembers Rin crying in his bunk after their first fight, the high-pitched gasp that Rin had let out when Sousuke had pushed into him for the first time... "Yeah, so good..." Rin says dreamily and cuddles more into Sousuke's warm embrace, throwing his arm around his waist and closing his eyes. "You smell good," he remarks, still breathing evenly like he's about to fall asleep. 

"I showered later than usual, maybe that's why." Sousuke responds, protectively curling his frame around Rin's smaller one. "Mm..." Rin hums appreciatively. His palm has sneaked under the hem of Sousuke's t-shirt, his wrist resting on the dip of his prominent v-line and his fingers tracing gentle circles on his stomach that make Sousuke tremble without thinking. Knowing what Rin has in mind, he pulls him in closer and strokes his waist and back. When he bends to mouth at Rin's neck, his boyfriend tips his head back, exposing the column of creamy skin for him as his hand wanders lower to cup Sousuke's bulge through his sweatpants. He's not hard yet, but the feel of Rin's practiced rubbing, coaxing, and the smell of his skin give him a shiver of excitement. His tongue moves from  neck to his jaw, then up to his lips where it meets Rin's in a dance they've refined over the years since they'd reunited in Samezuka.

He nudges Rin's hand away from between his legs and untangles himself from him which draws out a confused sound. But Sousuke casually spreads his legs out, and pats his lap in clear invitation. Rin climbs on gracefully, a mischievous glint in his eyes. The weight of Rin's pert, luscious ass nestled on his groin creates sufficient tension for now. He slides a calloused palm gently, sensually under Rin's t shirt, stroking the soft skin and hard muscle. Rin is starting to breathe more audibly, his arms looped around Sousuke's neck, unconsciously grinding down. The taller man spreads his hands apart to pull the shirt tightly across Rin's chest, then dips his head to give his nipple a wet swipe with his tongue over the fabric. Rin's breathing breaks into soft, barely-there moans as Sousuke sucks and licks on the bud that has perked and pushes out from under the shirt, begging for attention. Using his teeth to lightly graze and tease, switching from left to right, he can feel his own dick swelling from how _helpless_ Rin sounds whispering his name under his breath and trembling on his lap. He can't resist any longer. Rin's shirt is pulled out of the way, and Sousuke closes his lips around smooth, bare skin.

Sousuke pauses to pull his own shirt over his head. "You like your nipples played with, don't you?" Rin nods, his chest red and flushed. "Rub them on me then, Rin." Sousuke suggests. His own heart is thumping erratically, they haven't done this for a while. Rin spreads his thighs to kneel on either side of Sousuke's legs and leans forward till Sousuke feels his erection firm against his abdomen. He's too worked up to actually try and balance himself properly, but Sousuke wraps his left arm around his waist, his right palm going down to Rin's ass, supporting him. (His lower back would have done just as well, just that well, he's tryna get some blood pumping here.) Rin whimpers again at his firm grip, and his arms tentatively stretch to go round his boyfriend's neck. He gives himself a push upwards with his knees, hissing when the damp, sensitive skin of his sore nipples rub against Sousuke's hardened ones. It's painful, but electrifying, and Sousuke's eyes have become half-lidded. He touches his lips to any part of Rin he can reach--his hairline, forehead, cheekbones, the faint shadows under his eyes, chasing pale perfection. The point of contact is so minute, so specific but it makes the both of them moan when Rin does it again, and again, until they're basically dry humping each other and Sousuke's hand has slipped from Rin's shoulderblades into the loose boxers to caress smooth, bare skin. Rin pants in his ear, ticklish, and he gets off Sousuke's lap to pull down his boxers. There was a time when this would have been preceded by _Close your eyes, you ass pervert!_ but the time belongs to memories of high school, and Rin now basks in the hunger that magnifies in Sousuke's eyes. After he's fully undressed, he tugs at the waistband of Sousuke's grey sweatpants and pulls them down to his ankles. 

There is nothing underneath. 

"You were planning this, weren't you?" Rin accuses with a grin and tosses his head back to shake sweaty bangs away from his eyes. Sousuke doesn't reply, just gives him a hand up back into his lap with a smirk that's slightly crooked, and holds his chin in a show of force that makes Rin feel like he's made of blown glass that shatters with the tender kiss that follows. Sousuke's tongue is warm, wet and full of intention as it glides along the roof of Rin's mouth and on the inside of his cheeks. The sounds of sucking and the wetness when their mouths part and come together again are enticingly vivid. Rin settles himself back into his original position and grinds down , pulling a muffled moan out of the two of them. A callused finger sneaks down his crack where sweat has beaded, pushing against the soft flesh that's already partially spread from Rin's position and rubbing teasingly against his hole and around the sensitive rim. And _wow_ maybe Rin is just really horny tonight or Sousuke hasn't touched him like that in too long, because Rin literally twists in his arms, his cock twitching and buries whimpers into Sousuke's neck. "You're so hot," Sousuke croons into his hair, the flyaway strands saturated with flame. "You drive me crazy, Rin..." He replaces his thinner second finger with his thumb, applying pressure to the sensitive skin behind Rin's smooth balls (he fucking shaves, even there. Sousuke thinks it'll do him medical damage someday with how hard it gets him too quickly than should be healthy.) He doesn't reach for the lube they keep in the drawer in the coffee table just yet, the relative dryness of his skin makes the pad of Sousuke's finger catch a little more than usual and he knows, _knows_ what the extra friction does.

"Sou," Rin pants, trying to get his mind sufficiently together to form his sentence. "Sou, _hah_ , Sou, I've got... Got work tomorrow..." Sousuke steadies him with a hand on his shoulder. "It's fine," Sousuke assures him, his voice cracking at the end. "What do you want me to do then?" The image of his strong, powerful boyfriend on his knees with his cock in his mouth flashes in Rin's mind, making him lose his rhythm of breathing. But it's kinda late, and Rin wants to feel like he's doing _something_ for Sousuke as well, so he asks.

"I-can you just, like, rub us together?"

"Y-Yeah, of course," Sousuke grunts, trying to keep himself under control with the man in his lap achieving the exact opposite. "Move back a bit, you koala." Rin lets out a breathless laugh at that--and carefully inches himself backwards, holding on to Sousuke's forearms in case he accidentally deposits himself on the floor. "And get the lube." Rin does an awkward bend backwards, finding assurance in the secure way Sousuke holds on to him, and dips back up with the bottle. 

Sousuke squeezes some of the clear substance out and warms it up in his hands, then reaches out with his wet hand to grasp their cocks together. The first slide of hot, velvety skin makes Rin's hearing buzz. " _Rin_ ," Sousuke groans husky and low, sending shudders up his spine. He responds by running his teeth lightly on the other man's neck, on his pulse to make him moan again. A little broken noise escapes Sousuke, so different from his usual deep voice and his hand wraps around them a little more firmly, bringing his hand up and twisting a little at the end. Rin feels his hole clenching with want, and he curses **employment in general** because he'd totally beg for it if he could.

"Feel good?" Sousuke mumbles, rubbing up on the vein on the underside of Rin's cock which never fails to pitch forward whenever they do this. "Fuck, fuck Sou..." Rin replies. Sousuke's never been as vocal as Rin is in bed but hearing his name being called so intimately by the person he loves--whom he has only ever loved--makes feeling well up in him like a spring. Rin is trying hard to keep his hips still but it's difficult feeling Sousuke's thighs tensing under him. He nudges Sousuke's hand away, and grasps both their lengths in a slightly looser grip, thrusting lightly into his fist and against Sousuke's cock as a hint. Sousuke's reaction is to drop his head onto Rin's shoulder and push his hips forward, at the end of his tether. Rin's hands are in his hair, and he can feel how gentle they are. They rock together, kissing messily and resting their foreheads against each other when they're too out of breath to enjoy the view below of their swollen cocks twitching, swelling next to each other. Rin is so vulnerable like this, his eyes drooping shut with pleasure and letting out little moans and whines in his throat that drive Sousuke wild. "Sou, Sou--" 

"I'm-" Rin's thrusts have become jerkier, sharper and more desperate, "Please _Sou--_ " Sousuke pushes his hand away and quickly takes over once more. Rin shudders, arching and pushing his hips forward, his head thrown back. _"Fuck--!"_ His palm is soon painted with the warmth of Rin's release, and his tugs become slicker, faster, with Rin's come spread on his cock. "Rin," he hears himself panting, "Rin, Rin kiss me--" A mouth meets his as if in a daze, Rin's teeth gently tugging and nipping at his upper lip, sucking on his tongue. "Come for me Sou," he urges in the air that they share. "You look so good," Sousuke's mind is in a whirl, spinning as he thrusts frantically into his fist, demanding release. _"I love you so much,"_  he hears, whispered in his ear, strong, delicate fingers tucking his hair back and he comes with a drawn-out groan, slowly milking out every drop of his climax as Rin cradles his head in his arms and helps him find his breath with reassurances. It takes a while before he can lift his head again, to meet Rin's fond expression as he presses their lips together in a sweet, chaste kiss. 

"So," Rin starts, smirking lazily, when they part. "How do I look?" Obviously fishing for compliments. This guy. His damp hair has been pushed back, his mouth is rosy and parted, his chest is heaving and the taut lines of his inner thighs form a perfect triangle up to where they still meet. He's breathtaking, erotic and dizzying at the same time, flushed all over like a rose presented to Sousuke for his pleasure. 

"You look like..." _an angel, the wine of sin... pretty,_ are almost at the tip of his tongue but he chooses something else. "A newly-born baby dragon," bursting into laughter when Rin's soft, expectant look explodes into a ball of shock and indignance. "You bastard!" He growls and seems to want to raise his fist but lands up flopping back down onto Sousuke's shoulder.

"Beautiful," Sousuke breathes as his arms come up to circle his boyfriend again and hold him tight, pressing his face to his hair. "Always beautiful Rin, you're so beautiful--"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, if anyone hasn't heard it, the ringtone comes from the gudetama original song (from 00.39 or so, I just thought the guy in the mv would kinda look like Haru if he tried on full-length legskins which is totally something Rin would _not_ be able to get over hhahahaha)
> 
>   
>  A little bit how I imagine Sourin looks like ~~(this fic is so much in my head all the time it's not even funny anymore)~~  
>  Credits: @haruka_bananase


	20. the stories we say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _and with each passing day  
>  the stories we say  
> draw us tighter into our addiction  
> confirm our conviction  
> that some kind of miracle  
> passed on our heads_
> 
> _-Eric's Song, 2002_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey :D Exams are finally almost over and so I decided to sit down and get this baby up. I was originally going to post one whole long chapter but it's taking a little too long so I split it up. Awkward, shy, adorable Haru is my aesthetic hehe 
> 
> the next part will be up as soon as possible! Thank you for reading and please do leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed it as well as to leave me feedback so I can improve ^^ Until next time~

"Hey Haru, I'm coming over to drop off some documents for your boss at about six," Makoto says over the phone when Haru picks up.

"Oh, you can't email them this time?" Haru asks in surprise. Perhaps the documents are more important than usual and have to be delivered by hand... Or his boss is becoming paranoid again with the ~ _very important,_ _please remember that Nanase-san~_ board breathing down his neck. Yeah, probably.

"Ah I thought I'd drop by, since it's Friday... " Makoto answers with a laugh. "And we can go back together."

Haru gathers up his papers with a relieved sigh and makes his way to his boss' office to turn them in. His eyes widen in surprise when he sees Makoto on the way out. "Nanase-san," Makoto makes a slight bow and politely addresses him, a playful spark only visible to Haru dancing in his eyes. Haru responds with a nod of his own. 

"Tachibana." Makoto moves aside to let Haru pass in the narrow hallway. "I'll wait for you outside," he quickly murmurs under his breath.

When Haru descends the shallow flight of stairs from the automatic doors that swish open, Makoto is standing there, a clean cut silhouette against the blue-indigo colour of the sky and the whizzing reflections of the bruising clouds on the metal of cars with rumbling engines behind him. He sneaks up behind him, all the fatigue from the days work melting away as he inches up the pavement as quietly as possible. When he's safely a hand's breadth away from the strong back of his boyfriend, he suppresses a laugh at how oblivious Makoto can be.

"Makoto."

His large frame whirls around so quickly in shock that he loses his balance slightly and sees Haru holding on to his sides giggling in ill-disguised mischief. It makes Makoto forgive him instantly. "You're terrible," he says with a lopsided grin of his own, one hand still on his chest, trying to make his heart resume working on regular time again. Haru pats his arm in apology. "So. Your house or mine?" Both of them have clothes at each other's houses already, it doesn't really make a difference where they stay, only they have to literally stack themselves to sleep when they're at Haru's. 

"Mine?" Makoto suggests. "I got a new kind of rice; I thought we could try it together." 

Haru is unusually quiet after that though, his fingers loosely tangled with Makoto's and the sounds of their footsteps providing the only accompaniment to Makoto's one-sided conversation. He flees to the isolation of the kitchen once they reach home, busying himself with getting a pot out and rinsing it, re-doing actions that have become as familiar to him as they are in his own home. 

"Haru?" Makoto steps hesitantly into the kitchen to fetch the rice from where it's stored in the cupboard. "Haru I just- uh, wanted to ask if everything's okay?"

Haru contemplates taking the cowardly, easy way out. _I'm okay, that it's just work and being tired..._ but that's not it at all. But that's how rejection works, doesn't it? You don't know that it's coming, you can't guard against it, you don't know how much you should say and should not say before you get your heart broken.

But this is Makoto. Makoto who hasn't hurt him yet, Makoto who randomly calls him at night to remind him to sleep early or tell him about a brand of peanut butter and smiles with his eyes. Makoto with brown hair and green eyes. _Makoto who is not Hirose._ Makoto who taught him what being overwhelmed in the best way feels like. _Makoto who likes the water too._  Makoto who can be trusted. The person whom he's sure he loves and who loves him too. 

He nimbly switches off the stove before turning around quickly and hiding his face in Makoto's warm chest. The cloth of his long-sleeved shirt is cool and comforting against his heated cheeks and he presses his nose to it and inhales the scent of Makoto--of sitting in a chair the whole day, the traces of his cologne still carrying hints of pine, of his mild detergent. "Promise not to laugh," he says, still hiding in the safety of Makoto's shirt. "Mm hmm," comes the gentle reply and a playful tousling of his hair. "Promise."

"I've been... uh, thinking about our date," Haru's voice is muffled by the fabric and Makoto just finds him so adorable: gripping on to his shirtsleeves at the elbows and refusing to show his face like an embarrassed kid. "The one that we talked about... When-when you called me at night."

"That's nice... Uh, you gonna talk like that all the way Haru?" 

"Yes," comes the small voice and Makoto feels Haru's mouth part on the vowel sound against where he's pressed to his chest. And _god_ , he doesn't know whether to feel endeared or faintly aroused. 

"Uhm," Makoto says, his hand still softly threading through Haru's hair. "So what have you thought about?"

"Can you get off work early next Thursday? At about 3?" Haru asks. "And take leave on Friday." 

"Yeah I think so..." Makoto replies, "If I put in a couple extra hours every day beforehand and let my boss know." 

"Okay, meet me at Shinjuku Station at four on Thursday, bring two sets of day clothes and pyjamas," Haru instructs meticulously, his heart pounding with excitement even as he keeps his face turned into the fabric. 

"You weren't just 'thinking about it', were you Haru?" Makoto chuckles in amusement, playfully reaching down to cup Haru's jaw in his palms and coax him out of hiding. "You've thought everything out!"

"Yeah, I guess," Haru's reluctant admission comes. 

"Are we spending the night out then?"  

"Mm," Haru affirms. "I... uh, is that okay with you?" What if Makoto doesn't feel comfortable spending the night with him in a strange place, in a strange bed? "I could book a room with two beds, or two rooms... if you like," he rushes out in a garbled attempt not to look too presumptuous. He hopes Makoto won't say yes to either of the options. _I want to be close again._

"What? Haru?" Makoto sounds surprised. "It's more than okay, I don't- er," _how do I say this without sounding like some predator._ "You don't have to do any of that... I," Haru doesn't say anything so he tries to explain again. "I would like to share a bed with you, if you... don't mind, Haru." 

Haru turns his face in Makoto's palm and hides a smile. "Now you've got me all excited and distracted," Makoto faux-grumbles, but he can't keep the happiness out of his voice. "Sorry," Haru quips, not sounding in the least sorry at all. "But I figured it would be better than giving you a heart attack on that Thursday itself." He sounds so bland and serious that Makoto can't help but laugh again at his boyfriend's illusive, inscrutable cuteness. 

"I suppose the place is a surprise then?" 

" _Yes,_ " Haru almost growls in indignance. "I promised, didn't I?"

Makoto pacifies him with a sweet smile. "You're the best Haru." His boyfriend just makes an intelligible sound that sounds like a grumble. He eases himself out of Makoto's embrace and turns back to the stove, turning it back on. "I'll call you when it's time to eat," he says lowly. Makoto takes the hint and gets the rice, setting it down on the counter with a kiss on Haru's head. "Okay, I'll take a shower first!" 

They sit down at the table together about twenty minutes later. A touch of colour still lingers on Haru's cheeks as he picks up his chopsticks and devotedly lifts a piece of mackerel to his delicate mouth. "So how's work going?" Makoto asks conversationally, trying to keep the smile on his face from being too obvious. He doesn't want to make a fuss out of Haru taking him on a date if it makes him that embarrassed.

"It's... okay," Haru says after a beat. "I was thinking of making an outside thing in the middle of the building 'cos the board wanted a 'display piece'" he air quotes with a expression that Makoto can't put his finger on. That's Haru most of the time, really. 

"That's hard..." Makoto muses as he chews. "Unless you put it pretty low down, the wind's gonna wreck it sooner or later."

"That's what I was thinking too," Haru says with a frown. "But then I thought if I could make it higher and pull it off..." His hands holding the chopsticks pause in mid-air as he lets the silence complete the sentence for him.

"Yeah but it can't be static right, that would look kinda boring," Makoto voices his thoughts honestly but realises that Haru would already have considered that but Haru just nods. "Yeah, I'll make sure I don't do that." And that's a part about Haru that he loves: the almost complete absence of ego when it comes to listening what he has to say. He doesn't roll his eyes or say things like _obviously_ even though he definitely knows more about what he's doing than Makoto does. "But oh my god I swear the director is going to make me flip the table like godzilla or something one day I hate his shitty deadlines" Haru continues, and as usual, completely removes the filter between his mouth and his brain that makes people think he's _such a refined, polite boy, isn't he?_ Makoto doesn't even bother to stifle his amusement like he had the first time they ate together (he was trying to make a good impression then but Haru evidently doesn't care about these things) and kicks Haru under the table. Which of course, is taken as a declaration of of war by his boyfriend who begins the fight of the feet below the table as they lift food to their mouths, taking turns slyly pretending to retreat and calmly eat like the functional half of a _normal adult couple_ (because that's totally what they are right? With jobs and monthly incomes and all) before getting their ultimate revenge of a jab at the other person's heel or ankle and a dramatic _tsk_ (from Haru) or a reprimanding swooping down of chopsticks to steal a few grains of rice from the other person's bowl (from Makoto. Always Makoto.)

_How romantic._

"How's yours?" Haru abruptly asks, his slender leg affectionately twining around Makoto's ankle, resuming the sweetness that started their night. He startles for a moment. "Oh I'm having some problems with the scale--y'know, the heights of stuff in the room..." Haru makes a sound of acknowledgement. "Yeah, it looks a bit weird now... too standard and predictable-" his sentence breaks off halfway as he reaches out to take a piece of mackerel from the serving dish. 

"Eh, most people have problems with that at the start right?" Haru comforts him. "Sleep on it. That helps. And you're already good at colours, anyway." Makoto finds Haru's hand on the table and covers it with his own briefly with a smile, and the two of them finish their meal in companionable silence. Haru leans back in his chair with a satisfied sigh when he finishes, and drags his cold toes up Makoto's calf with a little teasing smile, more to play than anything else. Makoto wants to reach out and urge Haru into his lap, but Haru stands up right in that moment and starts gathering the dishes to wash them. 

"Haru, I can do it, don't-" Makoto starts, feeling guilty. "I can wash them after I'm done, you cooked for us anyway." 

"It's fine," Haru replies, already making his way to the kitchen. "I like doing them." Makoto hurriedly finishes off his last few mouthfuls and goes to the kitchen with the intention of shooing Haru out. 

But with his boyfriend standing with his back to him and the sound of running water in the background, Makoto's earlier purpose vanishes and he just wants to stand at the door frame and admire him. The delicate line of his shoulders, his slim waist emphasised by the long sleeved shirt and skinny dark blue-black jeans  that he's wearing... the intelligence and unabashed sense of humour that he falls in love with every time they talk. Haru's hair is dark and smooth at his nape, his elegantly pale skin the perfect contrast. Makoto strides forward and tightens his arms around Haru's middle and feels the firmness of his abdomen which makes heat rise in his cheeks and directs him down to press a kiss to the border of Haru's neck where the first protrusion of his spine is visible. The graceful motions of rinsing pause. "Makoto?" Haru turns his head and murmurs.

But no, Makoto doesn't want Haru's voice tender and sweet tonight. He wants him--wants to show this beautiful, shy boy how much he loves him. "Haru..." His voice rumbles and he presses another kiss to the man's pulse point, his thumbs starting to rub gentle circles over Haru's t-shirt. 

"We usually get to that after washing up," Haru's voice seems quirked by a smile. "Not in the middle of it." But he leaves himself open to challenge on purpose, waiting to see what Makoto is trying to tell him. 

"Ah, I'm sorry I'll just-" Makoto is about to detach himself from Haru and find a cloth to dry the dishes with but Haru quickly rinses off one of his soapy hands and holds him fast by his wrist, not caring that water is dripping onto the floor and through his shirt. "What is it Makoto?"

"It's just, I-I want to see you tonight Haru, but-" Haru's about to ask what he means but understands when his eyes meet Makoto's honest, green ones. They've touched each other before-- rubbed against each other through their clothes before until wetness stained the front of their boxers, Haru's cock hard against Makoto's stomach and Makoto's hips moving hungrily against Haru's ass, muffling their noises in the other person's shoulder. But Makoto wants more. Haru knows it too. And it would be a lie to say that he hadn't thought about it even after they lay next to each other, satiated, panting and kissing. They've never been confident enough to make out without both their shirts and boxers on, like a basic shield against vulnerability that was a little _too much_ for them to handle. But it's different now: Haru trusts this man to make decisions only to make him happy, to protect him; he trusts him enough to close his eyes around him.  

"You can have it," Haru's voice is low but certain. When Makoto looks up at him to confirm what he just heard, Haru's eyes are averted but he says it again, louder this time. "Whatever you want. You can have it."


	21. A gentle warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _strange how I fit into you  
>  there’s a distance erased with the greatest of ease  
> strange how you fit into me  
> a gentle warmth filling the deepest of needs_
> 
> _\- Eric's Song, 2002_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo guess who's back ^^
> 
> back with the smuts. happy reading i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i do all your comments hehe

_Holy crap._ All of Makoto's blood seems to just leave his head without warning and rush down south at the sight of shy, blushing Haru who's unconsciously keeping his head down but at the same time peeking up to look him in the eye with an almost defiant glitter in his blue irises. "I-uh," he stutters. He had thought that his feet would be winged if Haru actually gave him permission, but they're leaden now, glued to the floor with disbelief. "Haru-" he tries again, but his boyfriend is fiddling with the tie of his apron behind his back, loosing it and pulling the cloth over his head. Haru's heart is beating so quickly, so shallowly like a little bird fluttering its wings. Makoto had looked at him with such longing in his eyes, yet still holds back for him, for him, for him, always for him.

"Makoto," Haru exhales against his lips on tiptoe, his eyes on his mouth.Well apparently his body takes over when his brain isn't capable of processing his surroundings because his head is moving forward to kiss Haru, hands are reaching out of their own accord, clasping the small of his back and holding him close as Haru lowers his heels back to the ground. "Are... you really okay with this?" He asks hesitantly, more to gather his courage more than anything, but also wanting to make sure that Haru wants this too.

"Yeah, just--I need to shower, is all," Haru stutters. _What if Makoto wants to finger him today? Wait. He doesn't have the... The what's that called again-the cleaning thing-the HE CAN'T FUCKING USE MAKOTO'S ENEMA ANYWAY EVEN HE DOES HAVE_ \-- _(Ah okay that's what it's called.)_

"I'll wait for you then," Makoto says with a smile, pressing his lips to Haru's shoulder. As he turns to head into the bedroom, Haru grabs his wrist. "Makoto, I don't-uh," his face flames red. "Uh..." he's usually so (too) at ease when casually having dirty joke battles with Rin, so why can't he get this out and done with,dammit! "Can't do it... all the way tonight uh," Makoto's face softens and he's about to offer some kind of explanation that doesn't involve _ew hygiene_ but Makoto just nods. "I know," he says softly and Haru swears if he was a cat his ears would just flatten in content--that's the kind of mortifying effect Makoto's _family voice_ (his idea the night he was particularly giddy on cocktails and Makoto had to calm him down) has on him.

Getting his towel and clothes from the drawer kept for him in Makoto's closet, Haru deliberates whether he should just skip out on a shirt after all since they're intending to take it off in the end. But another glance at Makoto wiping down the table makes him decide otherwise because there's just something different and special in Makoto taking it off for him. He showers as quickly and efficiently as he knows how, not taking time like he usually does to stand under the spray and feel the water glide down his neck and back. Shampoo, body wash, face wash, and he's out of the bathroom in ten minutes. 

Haru gives his wet hair a few more rubs with the towel and makes his way to Makoto's bed, where the larger man whom he's sure holds a part of himself now is sitting with his chin in his hands. Makoto looks up at him as he approaches and holds his arms out, wrapping them around Haru and leaning his head against his stomach, eyes shut. Haru figures it's the nerves, or just a momentary need for reassurance. "Haru," he starts, hesitant, small. Haru lets himself be hugged around the waist and  rubs the back of Makoto's neck. "You okay?" he asks. "Yeah, I just- uh, realised that I don't have condoms," Makoto mutters into Haru's shirt, not knowing whether to feel embarrassed or afraid and lands up with an awkward mix of both. "And we have to use them no matter what we do right? I-"

"I don't know how to though," comes Haru's matter-of-fact response. "I didn't think of that..."

"Really? Me neither," Makoto says and lifts his head to reveal a sheepish, relieved grin. "But I... If you would feel more comfortable with... and still want this, I could go down to the store now and buy some... And uh... uh, figure out how to put one on?"

"Well I'm a complete virgin," Haru says contemplatively and eases himself gently out of Makoto's arms to sit beside him. "So I don't have anything..." _I want to feel Makoto._ But the reality that Makoto might have done this, something like this with someone else, is there, and it makes jealousy flare painfully in his gut like a low-aimed blow. "Are you-"

"I'm a virgin too," Makoto interrupts his question, blushing profusely. "I swear." He knows there's no way for him to prove it, Haru could reject him until he goes for a test and it wouldn't even be Haru's fault for being careful. But he's only out to Rei and Nagisa and his family, was never one for experimenting, or playing around in clubs or those mass dating get togethers in uni, just waited and waited for the right person until sometimes at night, he wondered how long he'd have to wait. But he wants Haru now, wants him so bad it hurts. Haru studies him for a long moment with those disconcertingly clear eyes of his. "Nothing at all?" he asks seriously. 

"Never, Haru," Makoto answers him with all the conviction he can muster. "Never," He twists his fingers together, his heart pounding so hard under the pressure of wanting Haru to trust him that he feels wetness prickling the corner of his eyes. "I wouldn't lie to you, I really wouldn't!" 

"I wouldn't either," Haru says gently, his thumbs coming up tenderly to smooth under Makoto's eyes and it's only then that he realises a traitorous tear has escaped after all. "Never, I would never lie to you." Makoto chokes on a sob of relief, and buries his face in the juncture where Haru's neck and shoulder meet, hiding in the safety of his faith. "I know," he whispers below Haru's ear. Haru's arms come around him, cradling his head and shoulders, softly kissing up his neck. "You still wanna do this?" he asks in an undertone. "Mm," Makoto hums,  reciprocating the touch. "I wanna feel you." His hands sneak up under Haru's shirt to feel the warmth and calmness of him. He kisses his lips, closed-mouth at first, then nipping at his bottom lip the way he has learnt how to ask Haru for entry. 

"Can I take your shirt off?" Makoto murmurs as they part for air, close to Haru's lips, hoping that he doesn't startle him. Haru nods shallowly, and Makoto tries to rein his anticipation as he gently pulls it over Haru's arms and head. Even though he's seen him like this before, it's more _real_ and _here_ than it has ever been. His skin is pale, soft, smooth, the outline of his ribs faintly visible and his stomach moving up and down with every breath. Makoto just sits there for a few long moments, looking, and then staring, till Haru starts feeling nervous.  

"M-Makoto," he swallows hard, holding his breath because it's just _weird_ , isn't it? To have someone look you all over while you inhale, and exhale, trying to keep calm but not succeeding. He bets Makoto can see how his stomach moves quicker and quicker, he wonders if his heartbeat can be detected through his skin--it's so hard, and loud, and insistent that Haru feels like he could be suffocated by his own body. "Makoto, you too--" he reaches out without waiting for permission and pulls the hem of Makoto's shirt past his navel. It's the first time they've seen each other shirtless without the context of getting into a pool; Makoto's skin is lightly tanned, evenly highlighting the ridges and shadows of his muscles, rippling and powerful. _Beautiful._ "Makoto," he says more as a reaction than to be heard, "If anyone asks, tell them you're mine okay?" His fingers trail wonderingly down from his throat to his hips that are exposed by his low-riding boxers. _Mine._

"Only if you tell them you're mine too," Makoto's voice is husky, deliciously masculine, stripping Haru bare. His big, calloused hands handle Haru gently, purposefully as he grips his waist and pulls him to himself. Wrapping his arms around his boyfriend, Makoto hungrily caresses the planes of his back and the silkiness of his sides in sweeps. As their mouths meet again, and they take their time not thinking and just kissing, deeper and deeper and letting their hands wander, Makoto feels his sex begin to swell amidst the wet sounds of their tongues and lips. He never wants to let Haru go, wants to keep kissing and loving him like this.

They somehow land up with Haru lying down and Makoto hovering on top of him, almost awkward with the tension buzzing between them, but just saved by Haru's little smile of content. Makoto shifts himself down and kisses up Haru's abs wetly, then cautiously smooths the pad of his thumb over Haru's nipple. "Are you sensitive here?" he asks quietly. Haru takes a quick breath, and his eyes squint like he can't see Makoto properly. "Kinda," he replies, threading his fingers through Makoto's at his side. Makoto smiles then, and laps at the nub, breathing out hot air on it to see it respond and perk. " _Ah_ , my neck too--"

"Here?" Makoto kisses the dip of his right collarbone gently, holding himself above Haru with his palms spread on the bed on either side of him. Haru wouldn't really take notice but the position is making the strength of Makoto's shoulders evident and _that, that_ perks his interest alright. "Mm," Haru means to say, but it comes out more as a whimper. "And here," he cradles the back of Makoto's head to feel the softness of his hair and guides him to the side of his neck, below his ear. Makoto chuckles, the hot air tickling and teasing Haru's heated skin. "So that's why you always ask me to kiss there huh," he murmurs. "I always wondered... You should have at least confirmed it then."

"Would've been weird right," Haru remarks, "just like, _mmh_ , randomly telling you these things."

"I'm your lover, Haru," Makoto nips at his neck in mild rebuke then lavishes his love on the fragile, pale skin. The word slips out so easily. _Lover._ _Someone born to be in love with Nanase Haruka._ Sinking down to nudge his legs in between Haru's and gently turning his head to tend to the left side, he starts nibbling on his ear and coaxing little mewls and gasps from his normally stoic boyfriend. Turning his attention back to his nipples again, he rolls one between his fingers while sucking on the other, The bulge in his boxers brushes against Haru's thigh when he leans forward a little more and just the fleeting pressure makes him lose his control for a second, letting out a soft groan and bearing down. Haru seems to recognise his need and he decisively rolls on his side and pushes Makoto down to lie on the pillow. "How 'bout you?" he asks, lowering his head to swipe his tongue over Makoto's left nipple. The direct heat and wetness of Haru's mouth do him in immediately and he hisses, hand going to Haru's head to hold him there. "Guess that's a yes too," Haru says almost nonchalantly. Makoto would feel slightly awkward but Haru does it _again_ , carefully watching his reactions. The sight of his prettily flushed neck and the firmness of his pecs when Makoto's hand skates uselessly over them send all remaining blood away from his head.

Haru's lips on skin that usually remains covered feels good, and right, and _oh, so_ good. Makoto almost regrets that he hadn't asked for this sooner but then again, he's so thankful that he even has a chance to hold this beautiful person in this life that could equally have passed him by. Haru experimentally tries fitting his teeth over the stiff nub and is rewarded by a louder moan from Makoto. The noises he's hearing are so much better than all the others Makoto has let him hear, and he can't help but answer with a few soft ones of his own. His hand comes down to cup the bulge in Makoto's boxers experimentally, fondling the heaviness of his balls and feeling the heat seep through the cotton. " _Haru!_ " Makoto groans and his hips jerk slightly. "Mm?" Haru hums in a half-whisper above him, dipping his head down to soothingly kiss his chest. 

"Feels good, Haru..." Makoto whispers, already breathing hard. He pushes his fingers into Haru's soft fringe that's cool to the touch from the water drying off it 

"Yeah?" Haru asks and maybe he just wants to hear Makoto say it again, but there seems to be a hint of uncertainty that Makoto wants to erase for good. "Y-yeah, so good" His voice breaks a little as Haru fingers travel to caress his tip in soft, circular motions. Precome seeps out at his touch, the wetness cooling on the cloth. "Ah Haru-chan," he breathes without thinking. 

He realises his slip up when Haru's finger halts in mid-motion. "...-chan?" Haru questions. Makoto's face feels like it will literally self destruct and his hands come up without him thinking to cover his embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry! I-Do you... not like it?" Makoto ventures to ask, muffled through his fingers. Haru sits back on his heels and considers it for a moment. "Just don't call me that outside," he finally says. "At home is fine, when we're doing this or, yeah-" He would never admit it but being called something so intimate and familiar sends a thrill through him--even his parents had only called him _Haru_ , and no one else is close enough to call him anything but that, not even Rin (not that Rin would do it, that guy seems to only be capable of sentiment when it comes to Yamazaki Sousuke and no one else).

"Okay," Makoto agrees more than willingly. "Okay," Haru says and surges up to kiss him. He swallows the small sound Makoto makes and sucks on his tongue lightly while his fingers go back to fondling Makoto through his boxers. Makoto groans into his mouth, a low, husky sound that's almost a growl and forces an answering noise from Haru. "Let me-" Makoto breaks their lips apart with a gasp. "Let me touch you too... Haru-chan." His hand reaches down blindly, groping Haru's half hard length at first, but slowly easing into circular grasping motions with his strong, long-boned fingers.

"Mm... Makoto," Haru's eyes roll back just before he can catch himself. "Mako... to-" His voice forms the vowels in delicious inflections that drip off his tongue like honey. He is kneeling on the bed, his hips are thrusting up, soft, again, unbidden, back arching in a long, graceful curve, his sharp chin jutting out and teeth gritted in pleasure. Makoto sits up and catches him just in time as he slumps with pleasure, resting his head on Makoto's shoulder, his breath warming the side of Makoto's neck in short, unsteady bursts. He wonders if it's weird to get off seeing Haru like this, just letting himself feel in his arms, his eyes half shut, helplessly leaning into Makoto's body for all his support. Makoto teases the the tip of his cock through the cloth just like how Haru had done to him, feeling its firmness. Haru's hips jolt up and he whines, a pleading sound in his throat that goes straight to Makoto's cock and makes it wet again.

"Haru, Haru-chan," Makoto rasps, tugging at the waistband of his boxers, unable to resist any longer. "I'm gonna take these off okay?" He helps him to lay down and hovers over him. Haru's expression is vulnerable and honest, his blue irises giving way to lustful, dilated pupils. He looks nervous still though, understandably so, but his hand cups the point of Makoto's elbow as they move, together. The first thing Makoto's eyes are drawn to are his thighs, fair and smooth, almost like he's waxed but it's just the way Haru is. One of his hands quickly come up on instinct to cover his crotch but Makoto doesn't try to take them away, just pulls the shorts down past his ankles and gently lifts them away from his feet. The other is resting on his face, covering his eyes like he doesn't want to see Makoto's expression as he's exposed to him for the very first time. But there's nothing for him to be afraid of, Haru is _gorgeous_ , and Makoto places a wet, open-mouthed kiss on the inside of his ankle to tell him that. "I love you," he whispers into Haru's skin that smells like _his_ soap, "I love you so much," he switches to the other ankle and does the same to it. He kisses up both his legs, feeling Haru's calf muscles twitch as his tongue glides over them. When he reaches the inside of Haru's knee, he gently runs his fingers over his inner thighs, pressing just enough for it not to tickle.

The heat of Makoto's hands on such a close, protected part of him is too much and yet too little at the same time. He lowers his arm, slowly, to look at his boyfriend who's taking his time with his body. He finally lets his hand drop to his side, for Makoto to _see_ , and he's so preoccupied with not blushing too hard that he doesn't hear the gasp leaving Makoto's mouth. Haru's sex is flushed a rosy pink like his neck, hard against his stomach and curved just a little to the left. It's shaved, perfect, like the rest of him. He lowers himself to kiss Haru's balls, one after another, still stroking his thigh and hips. "Haru-chan," he breathes in wonder as Haru peers down at him through long lashes, and over lips red with their kisses. He squeezes some lube into his hand from his drawer, warms it up a little, then takes Haru's shaft and pumps slowly a few times, just to hear the stray breaths and whimpers that spill out of Haru's delectable little mouth. Really, he shouldn't be too surprised with how it feels because he's a man too, but it feels new and different when it's another person--someone he loves. "Harder, Mako-" Haru urges breathlessly. "Mm," Makoto obeys and experimentally tries dragging his fingers on the upstroke across the vein that throbs a beat more than the rest of his cock. Haru rewards him with a roll of his hips and the sight of him tentatively, shyly, teasing his own nipples to accompany the pleasure Makoto is giving him. It makes Makoto's own cock twitch with longing and want, his boxers tenting with just how _hard_ he is. Haru whines, stretching his arms out, wanting Makoto nearer. 

When Makoto listens to him and lays down so every part of their bodies are touching, Haru tugs him into a deep kiss, exploring the roof of his mouth and inside of his cheeks with his tongue. His hands wander down to Makoto's ass, slipping his hands in and rubbing its curve under his boxers. "Please," he says, testing the way it clenches under his fingers. Makoto rolls over to his side, preparing to pull them down himself when Haru places his hand over his, asking for permission to do it for him. Makoto suddenly realises how brave Haru is, naked before him, because the prospect of showing everything to Haru is scary, to say the least. Haru offers him a searching look that's his way of offering comfort. Makoto has nothing to be afraid of, _not like him._ Makoto is literally the person he wants to see most all the freaking time, who carries his strength in the gentlest, most graceful way he has ever been acquainted with. There is nothing that should be hidden.

He kneels on the bed and stares at the swollen head of Makoto's cock, red, and wet with precome. Tracing his fingertip over the slit, he gathers some of the stickiness and lifts it to his mouth, delicately swirling his tongue around it. "You're too good at this Haru-chan," Makoto groans with a laugh, not missing the way more fluid seeps out of his slit at the sight of Haru innocuously licking his finger in a way full of intent.

"Glad to know all the porn has paid off," Haru says, side-eyeing Makoto with a smirk so slight it's hardly there. He's about to shove him in playful reply when Haru's mouth suddenly goes to his cock, kissing the tip and giving it a tentative lick that makes it twitch so hard Makoto blushes looking down at himself. "I don't know how to, uh-" Haru mumbles, gesturing vaguely, "So don't get your hopes up." He repositions himself in a more comfortable way while Makoto is still trying to collect himself and carefully takes only the head in his mouth again, giving it a tentative suck. Makoto's precome slicks his tongue and it tastes bitter, a little bit like lemon rinds and heavy musk mixed together. It's not the best, but it's Makoto and for that, Haru finds himself licking the tip for more, more, more that he can tease out of Makoto. "Oh shit..." Makoto curses under his breath, using all his willpower to prevent his hips from bucking and hurting Haru (and probably himself). The heat and wetness of Haru's mouth is _perfect,_ better than anything he has read or imagined for himself--the vision of Haru closing his eyes and making little noises like he's enjoying it too, the fact that Haru can feel pleasure by pleasuring him, is something that Makoto struggles to comprehend as Haru leaves off sucking and places a kiss on the base of his swollen cock. "You look so good Haru," he praises through harsh pants, almost regretting that his comment made Haru stop but compensated once he sees his boyfriend's look of concentration transform into one of longing. "Do you want to touch yourself too?" Haru wordlessly nods, acknowledging the ache in his groin and straightening up. Without looking at Makoto, he wraps his hand around Makoto's erection and slicks up his hand with the mixture of his own saliva and Makoto's precome, bringing it to his sex and smearing it on the shaft. He gives himself a practiced stroke the way he knows he likes it, firm, not too tight, and his stomach trembles as his body recovers from neglect. Makoto surges up to hold him, feeling Haru's arm move between their bodies and kissing him, letting him groan into his mouth. Haru's ragged breathing intoxicates him, and Makoto has no doubt that they'll both finish if they carry on like this but there's one more thing he wants to try.

"Haru-chan, let's, uh-" Makoto finds that he can't bring himself to get the word out and so pulls Haru forward for their hips to messily meet. The first slide of their cocks together causes a rushing in his ears. Makoto's hands reach out without thinking and grab handfuls of Haru's ass, feeling how the muscles shift and move with every thrust of his hips. It's soft and firm at the same time, pert and _addictive_. Arching his back into Makoto's grip, Haru blindly obeys what his body tells him will feel even better, and wraps his fingers around both their cocks, wet with lube and precome. Everything is instantly tight, and _hot,_ so hot that Haru feels like they'll burn up together and maybe the scary thing is that he wouldn't mind that at all. "Moan for me," Makoto's rough voice in his ear calls him back to earth, his strength rippling through Haru's veins like a drug. "Fuck," Haru whispers, driving his hips down to meet Makoto's in the snug sleeve of his grip. "Fuck, Makoto..." Makoto cups his balls as they rub against each other, revelling in how they rock in his palm, noticing how Haru's expression slackens into the single most _erotic_ thing he's ever seen when he manages to thumb over the seam in the middle of his scrotum, eyes shut, jaw hanging. "You like me touching your balls Haru?" he asks, just to tease him and hold on to his own sanity, to distract him from the numbing pleasure below that's threatening to betray him and spill. " _Mm...mmhh_ ," Haru answers desperately, insistently, his lashes lifting to show a sliver of blue the colour of the sea before a storm. He slips his fingers into his mouth, then places them on the sensitive points of Makoto's nipples, kneading in payback. A shock seems to run through him and he falters, a chance Haru takes to tilt his neck up and pull Makoto down for a kiss just to savour the raw closeness and heat of their bodies touching.

It's the first time either of them has been with another person, the little touches--a hand lingering on a hip, the brushing of fingers on a heated cheek, kisses pressed on any casual patch of skin exposed out of sheer, pure, love has already pushed them halfway to the brink. It's embarrassing. But it's okay. It's just the two of them together, enjoying each other, letting go of themselves and knowing that there never was, or is any judgement right now while they're here.

"I'm-I'm close Makoto," Haru chokes out, his hips snapping in an erratic rhythm that Makoto has no way of keeping up with. Everything unravels into a primal, messy, frantic beat, spiking his heart rate, telling him to _move, move, move._ "I'm _ah,_ almost..." Makoto replies, letting the sentence collapse into a moan when Haru kisses him suddenly in a way that's more a desperate swirling of tongues and panting than finesse. They share each other's air, feel each other's hearts beating, close their eyes and let themselves be swept away. Haru comes first, high, breathy " _ah_ "s and mewls escaping his throat as his back arches and fingers grip Makoto's bicep so tightly it hurts. It's the pain that forces his eyes open though, to catch Haru's expression of bliss, his brows scrunched together and his jaw falling slack in unashamed pleasure as his cock spurts white streaks onto his belly and slightly smearing Makoto's. He buries his face in Haru's neck as he feels his balls and hips tightening, inhaling the scent of clean sweat and shower gel mixed with the natural smell of Haru that reminds him of opening the window after it rains, letting it propel him fiercely forward, like he's finishing a race. "H-Haru-" he gasps out, his entire body straining to hold, to be held. Haru rouses himself from his high, reaching down to grasp Makoto's leaking cock in his hand and pumps it firmly to feel Makoto thrust into his palm and hear him pant and cry out _close, close_. "So beautiful," he whispers reverently in the man's ear, playing with his wet slit. Will the next phrase will be too cliche and kill the mood? He decides to go for it anyway. " _Come for me Makoto-_ " It's too much for Makoto, with the pressure on his cock, hearing Haru's usually controlled voice break on words meant to drive him to the brink. Haru's voice is swallowed up by his low, hoarse moan as his spine goes rigid and his hips give a few more unbidden thrusts to add his come to Haru's on both their skins. Everything is pleasantly white, like he's falling, floating both down and upwards all at once. Haru slowly strokes him through it, and tenderly wrings out the vestiges of his orgasm, murmuring soothing words and kissing his hair as "Haru-chan" escapes his lips with every pant while he catches his breath and opens his eyes to see again.

***

"Makoto-" Haru calls his name gently after they've cleaned up with a wet cloth and their heart rates have normalised and they can lift their arms without losing strength halfway. "Mm?" Makoto makes a sleepy, soft sound from above him, dropping a kiss on his hair while he lies pillowed on the larger man's chest. "Do you think... We could do it... all the way- on the night of our date?"

The unexpectedness of his request completely throws Makoto off but he tries not to show it. Even though his mind seems to insist on rationalising the whole thing and talking it properly through, his accelerating heartbeat makes the decision for him. "Yeah I'd like that," he admits with a smile. "If you're really okay with it."

"I want it," Haru declares, but his bravado vanishes once he gets the short sentence out, and he goes back to nuzzling into the warmth of Makoto's skin. Makoto slides himself down to kiss Haru on the mouth. "You can buy the condoms," Makoto says cheekily, but Haru can see the sincerity and care in his eyes that look even more luminous after he's been satisfied. "I wouldn't know what size to buy though," he grumbles. 

"Huh?" Makoto says in surprise. "Just buy the one that fits you, I suppose... I'll bring the lube from my house." He doesn't know how he's managing to discuss such _intimate_ things with Haru without bursting into flames. 

"Wait, you want me-" Haru starts, a frown surfacing between his eyebrows. 

"Yeah well," Makoto cuts in, feeling the blush all the way to the roots of his hair. "I mean, it'll hurt right? And... I just, I don't want to hurt you Haru-" Haru's mouth opens to protest but Makoto rambles on. "It's really okay, I'm just happy that you want to do it with me, _mm_!" Haru effectively cuts him off with a kiss that evolves into him licking into his mouth and his bare thigh moving in between Makoto's. Just as Makoto is starting to pant and his cock twitches feebly in interest, Haru trails a wet silver trail down his jaw and throat, kissing his hips. "I want you," he whispers so sensually Makoto swears it's on purpose. "I want you inside me." Makoto is just about to protest again when Haru lifts his eyes to look at him--so blue, and so deep. "Please Makoto." And _oh god, strategic timing much?_ Makoto's head swims with imagining what it would be like to make love to this boy, how tight and warm he would feel around him, the pressure, the joining of two to become one in a single moment. 

There's finality in his voice, and helplessness to resist in every fibre of Makoto's body. "Alright," he says softly, pulling Haru up to kiss him on his lips, his cheeks, his forehead, "Alright Haru-chan." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this particular chapter is a reward for my friend who handed in her art coursework today, everybody clap for her! discipline is an awesome thing
> 
> I'm guessing this is how they look like (nsfw) 
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	22. One tilted head on the other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Took a train to the stubborn coast  
>  Off-season towns half shuttered  
> Said hello to the rising breeze  
> Made a note of the setting sun  
> We fell asleep in our three-day clothes  
> One tilted head on the other  
> Felt a hand like the hand of god  
> Heard a voice like a seed of song_
> 
> _-Flyweight Love, 2013_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello!! ^^ I'm really so sorry that I took so long with this but I wanted to make sure I could live up to all the expectations for their date hahaha. 
> 
> **All opinions expressed in this are solely from my friend which I extracted out of a potterhead rant over whatsapp** (why do I feel this has to be a warning) 
> 
> Btw, I'll be carrying this work on into a series so I hope you guys stick around and enjoy these two boys with me :D Happy reading and I would love comments if you have any!!

Haru packs his laptop quickly once the clock strikes three, before anyone can approach him to talk or ask for things. 

He's a man on a mission the moment he steps into his house. Changing into a[ black tee](http://littlealienproducts.com/post/151093260616/thefashionboutique-future-ghost-t-shirt) that says "Future ghost" (he still hasn't figured out what it means but it's cute) and[ dark jeans that fit well on his hips](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/27/6f/c2/276fc22f1626cc8d6c5e9187f0575db8.jpg), he grabs a hoodie and hefts his backpack onto his shoulder. In the innocuous inner pocket... there's a little bag containing the... stuff they will progress to needing tomorrow night.

He walks briskly, relishing the freedom of an emptier street than he is used to. Hooking his thumbs into the straps of his bag, as he waits at a traffic light, waiting to cross over to the station. He hopes Makoto will like what he's planned. His heart had fluttered strangely in his chest when he'd selected the "one double bed" option on the hotel website. He hopes Makoto will like it.

He enters the station five minutes early, but Makoto is already waiting at the ticketing machines just like Haru had told him to, also shouldering a backpack and his hair gorgeously wind-swept. "Makoto," he comes to a stop in front of his boyfriend and is surprised by the warmth of appreciation flooding through his spine when Makoto looks up from scrolling on his phone, wide-eyed. _He's wearing his glasses again._ "Haru!" Makoto responds brightly. "Are you gonna make me buy my ticket blindfolded and whisk me away?" he asks teasingly. The pink apples of his cheeks are so endearing that Haru can't help but tiptoe and gently press a palm to Makoto's chest for balance, pressing a quick, light kiss to one of his cheeks. "Let's go,"  he tugs on Makoto's hand and murmurs. Makoto follows him almost in a daze, his lungs trying to recover. By the time he's realised where they are, they're at a counter and Haru's voice is sounding, measured and even. "Yes... two round trip tickets to Osaka please... Yes, thank you." _Osaka?!_ His eyes follow Haru's handing over of his credit card, trying to process what is going on (without making it seem like Haru is a kidnapper). _Osaka..._ He had been expecting somewhere within Tokyo itself, an onsen hotel at the most, lazy hanging out over the long weekend... or something, but _whoa_ , this has just escalated quickly. But he doesn't want to ask--he'd asked for a surprise after all, and he trusts Haru so much and so unconditionally that it should scare him, really. The blue-eyed man looks like he's figured everything out though, so Makoto just takes the ticket Haru holds out to him, and follows him through the crowded train station. It had been a shock to him when he first arrived--the concept of a "rush hour" not seeming to truly apply to this city in the sense that the proverbial hour literally lasts the entire day. "What time is the bus leaving, Haru?" Makoto asks as a notification for a new email pops up. He resolutely dismisses it and turns off his data. "About four-thirty," Haru replies, turning to look at Makoto. "Is it... um, Makoto... is it okay so far?"

"It's perfect," Makoto answers with a wide smile, seeking out Haru's fingers with his own and brushing them together. "You've really gone all out, haven't you?" 

"That's good," Haru manages, trying not to let his fingers shake too much at the fleeting warmth of Makoto's hand. "I-" He clears his throat. "I'll tell you where we're going later."

They find seats which are less washed in the late afternoon sunlight streaming in, settling down with sighs. "So," Makoto tips his head back and smiles at him with "Where to, my Prince?" His voice holds a teasing lilt, the mellow sunlight slopes over his chiseled nose, over his cheekbones, his shoulders that look so strong and _broad_ with the[ raglan](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/36/c4/6b/36c46bf556e9f15e4a2038df91308fa9.jpg) he's wearing and Haru turns to him and thinks, maybe he's the one who landed himself a prince after all. "We're going to Universal Studios," he replies lowly, his eyes dropping to Makoto's mouth, the lower lip tender and full, waiting a little nervously for his response.

Makoto states at him in shock, his eyes slowly growing bigger. "Seriously?" Haru thinks about how to reply to that, when Makoto barrels on. "Ohmygod Haru, they have the Harry Potter world!!" A smile so bright fills his whole expression that Haru can't bear to interrupt. "I've wanted to go there for like, FOREVER." He starts flailing around, clasping his hands on his head because he's so fidgety with excitement now he can't help it, "Shit Haru, I love you, I love you so much ohmygod." 

Haru feels the blush rising on his cheeks and it's so awkward, he doesn't know how to outpour "you're welcome"s which makes him jealous of how words seem to come so easily to Makoto. He would do anything for him, anything to make him happy. Makoto knows that right? Haru would do anything to keep him wanting him. His boyfriend seems to sense his struggle for words and reaches out, clasping his head to his shoulder with a comforting laugh as the bus engine starts to rumble. Haru accepts the gesture, snuggling into his warm side and enjoying the firm feeling of Makoto stroking his hair. "You're welcome," he mutters, face instantly feeling hot once the words leave his mouth. Makoto drops a fond kiss on the top of his head in response, and another one on his ear.

"Ah, Haru" Makoto whispers a while later just as he's about to get a little too comfortable and fall asleep. Haru blinks in confusion as Makoto gently eases his shoulder out from underneath him and shuffles around, emerging with a white box from his back pack. He offers it to Haru, a warm smile brightening his face. "Mackerel pie," he explains, "I thought you might want to eat it on the way but I forgot."

Haru trades a kiss for the box (that was **totally** demanded by Makoto, that idiot. Who literally turns his cheek to another person and points to it in a public place?!) They fall asleep on one another an hour later after Haru has gotten his share of stolen kisses, lulled by the comfort of constant motion, and tired out by the week's work.

***

"Haru-chan," Makoto gently brushes the other man's fringe away from his forehead, unable to prevent a smile at the sight of Haru's peaceful face relaxed in sleep. "Time to wake up love," he tests the pet name on his tongue quietly, almost under his breath. It feels a little strange, unfamiliar, but at the same time settles a comfortable weight in his heart. Haru stirs at his voice, his eyelashes fluttering and his lips pursuing into a pout as he registers the brightness of the room. "Mm-" he groans and throws an arm carelessly over his eyes. "Callmethatagain?" he mumbles with the minimal alertness he has, eyes still closed. Makoto hesitates in his prodding, unsure if Haru is pulling his leg or- "... Haru love," he murmurs. Haru rewards him with a blink as he opens his eyes to gaze at Makoto. "Love you," he says simply, reaching up to loop his hands around Makoto's neck and pull him down into a full-body hug. Makoto almost laughs in relief and giddiness that it's the first thing Haru thinks to say to him in the morning.

He's living the good life.

"It's time to wake up," Makoto protests, muffled half in Haru's neck and his pillow but enjoying the warmth of his sleepy body all the same. "There's breakfast downstairs right?" They had been given coupons with their keys yesterday, and Makoto can feel his stomach growling because of the light dinner they had the day before. Haru squirms in his arms, his legs stretching out. He doesn't blame him. They were barely awake enough to forage for a convenience store and check in yesterday night after the eight hour long bus ride. "What time is it?"

"Almost seven forty-five," Makoto replies. "Mm... maybe they'll have mackerel with rice?" 

Haru gets up immediately, swinging his legs over the bed and trots off to the bathroom without a second word. His boyfriend who's usually eloquent, intelligent, keen-eyed, reverts to being endearingly childlike sometimes.  _So cute._ He wishes he could let him sleep longer but the park opens at nine, and they want to make the most of the opening hours to take as many rides as possible. 

When they've finished breakfast (No mackerel, but there was tempura. Crisis averted.), Makoto and Haru head towards the huge glass doors, ready to embark on their date. But Haru suddenly stops, and turns back, walking swiftly to the hotel reception before Makoto can ask him why. By the time he's crossed the lobby and joins him, the young receptionist is already getting out of her chair and heading to a back room. "What is it Haru?" he asks curiously. "Water," Haru brief answer comes, and the lady emerges holding four bottled waters. Haru thanks her and hands two over to Makoto, explaining as he unzips his own backpack to put the remaining two in. "I don't know if the park will have water coolers, and their water will probably be overpriced so I thought we should prepare for that."

Makoto doesn't even know how to react. "You can't," he starts in amazement. "Wait what, isn't that exploitation?!"

"Yeah, Universal Studios exploits us," Haru answers nonchalantly. "But that's how it is everywhere right?"

"No, like us exploiting the hotel!" Makoto replies helplessly.

"We've paid for the room," Haru says, nonplussed. "I think it's fine... I'm not trying to resell their cutlery or anything. Would you really pay like 500 yen for a bottle of water?"

Makoto has to admit defeat on that. The money would be useful for so many other things. Like Harry Potter souvenirs. And treating Haru to lunch.

As Haru joins the queue for tickets at the entrance where crowds are already milling around, both locals and tour groups. He's glad they had managed to take leave now, rather than during the school holiday season or a public holiday when the queues are bound to be horrendous. He's vaguely aware of Makoto leaving his side but he pops back half a minute later, excitable as a puppy.

"Haru! Haru, ohmygod I can see the Harry Potter sign from here!!" As Haru turns from the counter, he's met by Makoto who's positively beaming from ear to ear, his eyes the brightest he's ever seen them, bouncing on his heels. "Hufflepuff is just the best house don't you think!  Even though Slytherin and the other two houses are considered to be cool and people think the Hufflepuffs are really lame, like they don't have many characters who contribute directly to the storyline or like the huge underlying plot... unless you count Cedric Diggory who DIED," Makoto pronounces the word so emphatically that Haru wonders what kind of terrible death the poor guy had to go through. "But they're so loyal, like towards the end of the deathly hallows book when the death eaters take over the school-" His words and sentences are tripping over one another in his excitement and Haru's pretty sure Makoto has forgotten how to breathe

"That's nice," Haru responds, checking how many people there are to go in front of him. "We should go." _Harry Potter_  only conjures images of a young boy in round glasses, some wizarding story... He does know that the guy who acted as Harry Potter was the villain in Now you See Me 2... Is that counted? But seeing Makoto so excited makes him conclude that the Harry Potter world is his main focus today, and Haru is willing to oblige. 

"Right?" Makoto waves his hands animatedly. "HUFFLEPUFF CHOSE TO STAY. LIKE. WHO SAYS THAT GRYFFINDORS ARE THE MOST COURAGEOUS?" He's basically whisper-orating like a kid on a soapbox and Haru can only stare in wonder and amusement. "AND THE BEST PART IS HUFFLEPUFFS DONT PRETEND TO BE HEROES. Even though they're passive characters in the book, like Gryffindors are ALWAYS trying to be like freakin heroes or something, and Ravenclaws are smart, and Slytherin is just really cool cos the people are badass and stuff, that doesn't mean that they aren't cool people or like important people!" Wow. Haru has to try hard to restrain his applause.

They've reached the main gate and Haru doesn't let him finish, handing their tickets to the staff. "We should go," he says, and offers a smile that he hopes can convey all the sincerity in his heart. Makoto passes through the gates with him, his head turning to try to look at everything in one go, revelling in the themed music. "Ohmy, I hope we find Luna to take photos with, she's my favourite character!! Who's yours Haru?" 

"I don't... follow Harry Potter," Haru admits. "But it sounds interesting." But this date is supposed to be for the both of them, and not himself only and so Makoto refuses to impose. 

"Ah, then w-we don't have to take the rides then, if you don't want to Haru," Makoto says with a blush and tugs his wrist to halt their walking towards the Harry Potter world. "We can always visit the other worlds first and come back to it later if there's time-" _Haru should have told him... Why hadn't he said anything?!_

"No, rides are generally fun whichever world they come from right?" Haru puts a reassuring hand on Makoto's shoulder. "And I don't mind being introduced to Harry Potter... you can educate me?" He knows that if he doesn't make his own desires known Makoto will just beat himself up over _imposing_ , which Haru can't quite understand because Makoto is literally the most un-imposing person he knows. "Ah... okay but we'll go to the world that you choose immediately after," Makoto insists. Haru honestly doesn't mind agreeing to anything as long as it makes the guy continue moving to the Harry Potter world that he loves so much.

On the way to the rides, they walk along avenues lined with souvenir shops that Makoto _oohs_  and _aahs_ over and Haru promises they'll come back to later. They follow the map till they reach the Flight of the Hippogriff, an animal that Makoto explains is half eagle and half horse. They ride it twice in a row, ignoring the giggles of a few of the attendants, sitting once at the very front and once at the tail end. It's important to feel the different winds. Haru says.

The 4D adventure is amazingly vivid, as is the castle walk that takes almost an hour because Makoto has a need to examine every single item and display to the minutest detail and sigh happily over the faithful accuracy of it all. They make it just in time for a street choral performance accompanied by magical croaking frogs ("Aren't they talented?!" - Makoto who had gotten a little too into the potterhead space) that Haru admits is pretty good and is met by enthusiastic applause from the crowd. As they disperse, Makoto exclaims, "Butter beer!" Haru's eyes follow the direction that he is pointing in and sees a stand that's already serving a long queue. "What's that?"

"It's this drink in Harry Potter," Makoto replies distractedly, "And it tastes like butter and cinnamon and other spices, it's supposed to be really good!" Haru tries to imagine how all those flavours will fit together but the idea eludes him completely. They join the queue anyhow, and the sweet, spicy scent wafts down the line, arousing Haru's interest. "What does it look like?" he asks Makoto in a hushed voice. "Is it alcoholic?"

"Do you want it to be alcoholic?" Makoto teases with a knowing glint in his eye. Haru's love affair with mojitos is not a secret between them. Not that Makoto doesn't like it, it had gotten him a pretty handsy Haru that night. And hungover Haru is basically a koala.

Haru just nonchalantly raises his eyebrow with a slight smirk. "Wouldn't be beer without it," he remarks, pretending not to care either way.

They get the alcoholic option. Of course. Haru thinks it looks very much like regular beer, just more brown than yellow. He lets Makoto slurp up the froth on top and chooses not to comment on how he didn't even hesitate to get the original mug rather than have it in a plastic cup. It's warm though, and as the fragrant, spicy liquid flows down his throat, Haru can't help but let out a little sigh of satisfaction and warn Makoto to save a last mouthful for him.

They begin the journey of finding the perfect souvenir among the many shops with the sad constraints of limited funds. (Because as much as he wishes he could let him, Haru will not allow Makoto to spend his life savings on this franchise.) Wandering in and out of the various shops and almost being able to memorise Makoto's indecisive face, Haru is about to just relent and let Makoto get the wand instead of telling him to get something more practical. But "Haru! Haru, what do you think of this?" Makoto calls from the aisle next to him and hurries over to show him the shirt he's holding. "Huffle... puff?" Haru  pronounces the unfamiliar word hesitantly, feeling the material. "Yeah, it's my favourite house!" Makoto says with a grin. (This might be the third or fourth time he's saying it but it's such a lovely thing to hear.) "I think it's nicer than the rest that we've seen." Haru assesses the shirt again, holding it out at the hem. "I think it'd look better in black on you," he remarks. "Do they have it in black?" 

"They should right...?" Makoto tugs on Haru's hand. "Come with me?" They find the rack of black shirts relatively easily and Haru helps hold up sizes to Makoto's back to get the best fit. The whole place is pretty cozy actually, with its warm lighting and wooden beams and the atmosphere of dusty antiquity. 

"There's a promotion if you buy two," Haru remarks in interest as he catches sight of a sign pasted to the shelf. "Legit?" Makoto looks up and sees it too. "Then... Would you like to buy one? With me?"

"What do you think my house would be?" Haru asks, considering it. 

"Mm... I think Ravenclaw, cos you're quiet, intelligent, witty..." 

"Oh so I belong to the pretentious bunch while you basically belong to the best house in Harry Potter." 

"Ah, the main character is pretentious but there are other characters like Hermione and Ron who are not pretentious and are smart, courageous!" Makoto hastens to justify himself but Haru still looks mollified (The slight pout is probably an act but Makoto doesn't want to take his chances).

"But I thought you said Hufflepuff was the best," Haru argues.

"Yeah, I guess it's the best for me but you're no way a Hufflepuff guy so Ravenclaw can be the best for you okay?" Makoto consoles him. "It doesn't mean I think you belong to a bad house!" 

Haru almost laughs at how seriously Makoto takes this whole thing. He lands up choosing a white Ravenclaw one, just for the memories that he'll probably use as a sleep shirt. (But no, not for Makoto. That guy had already planned to wear it on their next date.) Makoto heads to the cashier alone while he browses around a little more.

He's just beginning to stray into the other corner of the shop when Makoto bursts into his field of vision, "HARU I FOUND LUNA LET'S GO TAKE A PHOTO WITH HER!!!" The next thing Haru registers is his wrist being grasped and eagerly pulled along. A girl with long blond hair, some sort of goggles perched on top of her head and a sweet smile is waiting for them at the storefront. "Sorry!" Makoto apologises. She volunteers to take the selfie and approaches another customer to help them take the full-length shot.

Makoto takes a look at the photos, his handsome face lighting up with a grin. "Ohmygod thanks for the picture really, shes my favourite character and you're cosplaying her so well!" Haru strays over to the nearby confectionery shop to look at their displays but the murmur of conversation behind him continues. "How do you even get your hair to look like hers? Like, are you naturally blonde or do you dye it? I've always thought her hair was really pretty and so is yours..."

From what he can hear, it seems like the girl is gushing along with Makoto and overlapping with his sentences. Which, to be honest, is natural right? Two people passionate about the same things coming together should make sparks fly, but-

"She's your favourite character too?? Like ohmy she's so underrated and so pretty, and her Spectrespecs are so cool and cute-" Makoto laments.

"But she only appears in the later movies???" The actor responds with genuine pain. Makoto makes some noise of frustration. "Right???? She's an amazing character?? She's always bullied because she's always daydreaming and loopyish, but she's still such a nice person to everyone-"

It's only when another group of tourists spot her that she waves goodbye to Makoto, and _is it just his imagination or did she wink at him??_ "Ah sorry Haru we kinda," Makoto laughs in embarrassment. "Kinda got carried away..." his face is still flushed from how worked up he was getting, and Haru realises that maybe he's not the best companion to go with to a place that basically revolves around this fantasy world.

"Is everything okay?" Makoto asks with concern when Haru doesn't reply immediately. Maybe he's feeling cold from standing still for too long, or... Not feeling well? Makoto has just begun to learn how to read Haru's eyes and he can't discern anything from them now.

"Yeah no, I just..." Haru trails off, but realises that he can't stop now that he's started his sentence. "I dunno, wish I knew more about Harry Potter, so I could, yknow-" Haru looks down and away, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. Suddenly, he feels his chin being tilted up and he's struck with relief that they're in a corner, rather than the middle of the street because Makoto's lips are decisively on his, the firm hand at the back of his neck leaving no room for questions. "You're always more than enough, Haru" he says softly with understanding evident in his smile. "You don't have to worry."

"You could be bi for all I knew," he grumbles, still self-consciously biting his lip but he peeks out at Makoto just for a second confirmation. "Nah, I don't think so," Makoto says gaily, wrapping his arm around his waist and pulling him close. "And even if I was, it wouldn't matter."

And well, if Makoto does feel slightly accomplished to have Haru jealous over him... Well.

They decide to make their way to the New York area where there's a pizza parlour for lunch. They had almost gone into a burger place but Haru had caught sight of the photo of the _Azzura Di Capri_ brick building in the map and suggested (made the eyes) that they go there instead so he can see it in its completeness. He lingers outside, taking photos on his phone while Makoto shakes his head indulgently and heads in to find a seat.

Makoto returns with a tray of steaming BBQ bacon pizza and cold drinks, including Haru's special request for the cheesy wedges that he wanted to share. As they settle down with their food, Makoto gently laces their fingers together, just enough for Haru to feel the strength of his hands, and they start tucking in with soft conversation and smiles. While making some small talk about the project, a high-pitched voice suddenly squeals that they trace to the toddler sitting at the table next to them. "Mama, two boys hold hands!"

Haru immediately turns red and pushes their hands away from each other. The imprint of Makoto's touch, initially tender and comforting, burns on his skin with the feeling of being cornered coursing through his veins. "Shh, not so loud Aki-chan," his mother quickly rebukes him before anyone else notices. "I'm so sorry," she hastily apologises to them, her eyes still on the child. "Please don't be offended, I... I fully support you-" her hands move in a vague motion like she's figuring out how to put it, "The two of you look so happy together," the lady settles for with a kind smile.

"Thank you," Makoto replies after overcoming the initial panic with a sincere grin of his own. "That means a lot to us, really."

"Do you mind uh, answering Aki's question for me?" The unexpected request comes after she's calmed down. "I think it's so important for him to learn these things as soon as he can understand them, but I would understand if you don't-"

Makoto looks over at Haru who's still staring down at his lap for confirmation, then interrupts her with another charming smile. "Of course," he says. "We'd be happy to."

Smiling in thanks, she turns back to the toddler who's watching their exchange with interest. "Why don't you ask the nice boys yourself Aki-chan?" she suggests. She lifts him out of the high chair and sets him on his feet on the ground. And Makoto, like the day Haru realised he was in love with him, naturally gets out of his seat to squat and meet the child's eye level.

"Hey Aki-chan," Makoto greets with a tender smile, his voice gentle and low.

"... 'lo," Aki responds shyly, looking back at his mother for reassurance. "Why?" Aki waves his chubby palms to complete the sentence, his eyes big and curious.

"Because I love him very much, Aki-chan," Makoto says seriously, taking they boy's small hand between his fingers. Haru is watching more passively from his chair but his heart skips a bit at the honest confession.

"Mama hold hands too," Aki confides in Makoto after digesting the information with a searching look and half whisper. "Hold hands with my mummy." Makoto looks up at the lady with a new light of understanding and she smiles, blushing and nodding. Haru is caught by surprise too.

"Okay, we'll let the boys go back to eating now Aki-chan," his mother says fondly. "Do you want to give them a hug first?"

"Aki-chan hug!" The young boy cheers with an enthusiastic nod, tottering out of his mother's arms with a wide smile and practically falls into Makoto's embrace. He's warm and padded in his little sweater and for a split second, Makoto feels like he's back in Iwatobi when Ran and Ren were still learning to talk. Makoto cuddles him to his chest, chuckling when Aki unceremoniously dumps the weight of his arms around Makoto's neck, more than making up for his lack of finesse with childish glee.

"Do you want to hug Haru too?" Makoto asks, turning Aki around to see Haru who's still sitting awkwardly at the table. "Roo?" Aki asks, holding out his arms in invitation "... 'Roo hug?" Haru gets down then, and accepts the bundle of joy that toddles over to him like a duckling, cradling him in a way that he never knew how before today which sends a wave of sentiment through him. _So this is what it's like to hug someone smaller._ There is an innate urge to protect, to cherish that he feels when seeing Makoto sleep but in a vastly different way. He supposes it's this feeling that makes Makoto so open to children no matter where he meets them.

"Love each other," Aki says simply with a nod of his head when Haru releases him. "Mm, very much," Haru says with a slight smile, looking into his innocent eyes that sparkle with life. Almost right on cue, another lady returns with their tray of food. "Time to eat, Aki-chan!"

***

They visit the Jaws world next. Haru gives up all semblance of stoicism and screams hysterically along with Makoto when the shark comes looming out at them. Haru buys a little plush great white for Rin, knowing how much his friend likes to collect these things that still fill his bed when Sousuke happens not to be around. They sit right up front in the splash zone for the  Waterworld show, (the guy's muscles are okay, but Makoto's are so much better), and Makoto whispers to Haru that he would like to take one of those jet skis with him someday. Haru says he'd like to force the entire craft underwater and emerge amidst a powerful spray like the actors do more than anything.

After covering all their must-sees, they decide to just take as many rides as possible since they're already here, no matter how kiddy or boring they may look. So Makoto picks Snoopy Studios, and they make a grand tour of it, while Haru picks the next one. "Hello Kitty Fashion Avenue." Haru reads from the map with a straight face. "Let's go."

They spend ten minutes queueing for the "Hello Kitty Cupcake Dream" and finally settle themselves in a pastel blue cup. The music starts and Haru braces himself for a wildly careening type of spin but they kind of just... drift. Makoto bursts into laughter seeing his face and starts trying to turn the wheel in the middle to urge their teacup to rotate. It does, but more like a quicker version of the way the earth turns on its axis probably, than the theme park ride they had been expecting. Makoto abandons his efforts after a while and just leans back, laughing.

"This was your idea Haru," he manages, still giggling. "It was a bad one," Haru responds, with a slow blink amplified by the gradual and extremely child-friendly spin of their cup.

But not everything is too bad, Makoto picks the Sesame Street World and there's a ride with a giant skateboard that Makoto insists on taking twice, and a whole load of old fashioned rides that have them marvelling at the views like the kids in the carriages around them. They get on the Big Bird carousel, taking photos of one another riding among the lights against the backdrop of a sunset bleeding through the clouds. Makoto's legs are so long that they still reach the floor even when his steed goes up, and refuses to scrunch them into the footrests "in case they cramp". Poor Makoto.

When the stars have come out and probably 217 photos later, Haru and Makoto find themselves strolling down the lamp-lighted boulevard, just to soak up the lingering atmosphere before they leave . "I heard they put on fireworks during Christmas here," Makoto says dreamily. "It would be so pretty... can you imagine?"

"Yeah," Haru agrees, carefully slipping his fingers into the gap between Makoto's, not quite holding hands but loosely locking. "We should go somewhere with fireworks one day."

"I could bring you back to Iwatobi," Makoto says casually, squeezing Haru's hand and smiling at him. "The yearly festival has fireworks." And of course, Haru knows that Iwatobi is kinda the furthest place to suggest, when Tokyo is full of them at different times of the year, but his heart clenches in a surprising pleasant way that Makoto thinks of him as a permanent person in his life, to embed in his memories of home.

"We'll see," comes his reply, as he gazes up at the sky illuminated a transient orange with the remnants of a perfect day.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 weeks to A levels..... my future hangs in the balance guys 
> 
> Also, I updated the previous chapter with a pic that I wanted to insert but forgot haha, check it out if you want!


	23. for me to call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hey love,  
>  Is that the name you're meant to have  
> for me to call--_
> 
> _\- Gravity, 2002_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO TODAY IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE IN THE TWO YEARS SO FAR :D exams are finally over for good (like, this was the final one. I don't have to do math or history ever again in my life) 
> 
> AND. GUESS WHAT. GUESS WHAT. I'm going to the land of Makoharu today!! My first trip to Japan!! The cab is coming in exactly one hour and I am beside myself with excitement. 
> 
> Btw, this was supposed to be one whole chapter but it got too long like 4k words of smut and I figured it would be best to chop it up while I refined the rest of it. Enjoy!

"Haru?" Makoto says his name suddenly and he turns around to see him sitting cross legged on their bed. "I-I had fun today... Really, it was..." His blush is spreading across his cheeks and up to his ears. Haru realises that this is Makoto's way of easing them both into their plans for the night, and makes his way to the bed, kneeling opposite him and sitting back on his heels.

"I'm glad you liked it," Haru says, hand coming up slowly, gently to cup Makoto's jaw to tell him it's okay, that he's ready. He wonders if there will ever be a time that he can face Makoto like that without his heart thudding in his chest.

"Can I..." Makoto swallows and forces himself to remain steady. "Can I hold you, Haru-chan?" He smells fresh, clean, from his shower. Makoto already feels himself getting a little excited just from his faint scent alone. Haru shuffles closer to lean into him, hand dropping to Makoto's neck, and his other arm joining it to pull Makoto's chest to himself. When he looks up, Makoto is already staring fondly at him, his lips parted in invitation. "We'll take it slow okay?" His tiny smile is warm, safe, and Haru nods, rising up to kiss him. They start with sweet touches of their lips, just to feel each other's breaths and whispers. Haru thumb rubs along the nape of Makoto's neck as he voluntarily parts his lips. The kisses get progressively deeper, until they're pressed as close as they possibly can be and Haru is making little sounds into Makoto's mouth. He almost misses the way Makoto lifts him up so that his legs are freed from under him and wrapped around Makoto's waist instead.

"You smell like my shower gel," Makoto says hoarsely, his head dropping to rest on Haru's shoulder. "... That's... good right?" Haru responds a little nervously, biting his lip. _Oh god, that was so un-sexy._ Makoto unexpectedly nips the side of his throat just under his ear and Haru gasps, grasping the back of Makoto's head to keep him there. "Mmhmm," Makoto hums into his skin, easing himself out after a while so he can kiss under Haru's chin. "You're always good," he murmurs.

"Not always," Haru argues, more out of embarrassment than anything else. "Almost always then," Makoto settles, kissing his chin. Haru wants to ask him for his opinion if he had smelled like the round bar of soap that the hotel had provided just to hear the tenderness that will be in his words but Makoto goes back to the other side of his neck with equal fervour, and the brush of his tongue against Haru's pulse point makes him lose his breath for a second. The little vein is throbbing lightly, erratically and Makoto gently presses his thumb against it, like it's the secret to knowing all of what Haru is feeling inside. He gives it a last kiss and makes an effort to move up to Haru's lips once again but Haru suddenly holds him down, insistently, stubbornly and Makoto chuckles, hiding the sound in the crook of Haru's neck. He's only too happy to oblige, kissing up to his ear and using his tongue to trace its edge as Haru's hand on the back of his head falls helplessly to the mattress with a thump. Makoto is holding Haru by his waist, which is almost _lithe_ when compared to his own but steady too, the iron seam of strength in Haru as apparent here as it is in his gaze. Haru is stroking his back over his shirt, and it's so wide, strong, carved by years in the water.

He wants Haru to know how beautiful he is, how enticing and full of ways to make Makoto lose all his trains of thought. Their mouths meet again, and Haru lets himself be greedy now, his tongue running along Makoto's inner cheeks and the roof of his mouth, swallowing the short, breathy groans from Makoto. When Makoto lowers Haru down and curls his grip around to Haru's right shoulder, Haru's arms come up to loop around his neck, pulling him in deeper. His hands wander down Makoto's sides, up his forearms, tracing the sculpted frame, impatiently racking Makoto's shirt up  Makoto sits up without warning and pulls his shirt off, exposing his tanned, muscular chest and stomach, and is back to kissing Haru, straying to his neck and throat with wet sounds, laying almost flat with his legs between Haru's. His hands are in his hair, his side, petting everywhere he can reach. His entire face is hidden in the curve of his shoulder, hips rolling unconsciously. Haru relishes the feeling of smooth, warm, bare skin under his fingertips and he hugs Makoto to himself, tracing the line of his back and dipping down to where his boxers just hide the swell of his ass, panting at the feathery breaths on the most sensitive part of his neck that make his stomach clench and fitting the crook of his elbows around where he can feel the protrusion of Makoto's ribs, palms running across the plane of his back as Makoto groans his name. He comes back up to kiss him on the lips, pushing his shirt up and kissing his nipple, taking Haru's hand where it rests at his side, bringing it to where his cock is straining in his boxers in an obvious plea for Haru to touch him. He's big, and warm, and Haru can't help but smile in adoration that this beautiful man is all his to love. Makoto raises himself up again and groans, his eyes half-lidded, his fringe falling over his eyes. The length in his hand twitches and grows even harder when Haru rubs his slit through the cloth, and Makoto's arms falter for a second, "Haru-chan" falling from his lips as a reflex. He just looks so _good_ , with his pupils dilated and jaw slack, panting while gazing into Haru's eyes and it makes Haru want to do even more for him. 

He urges Makoto to flip over, gazing into his eyes as he bends his head to suck on a nipple. His eyelashes lower demurely to cover dark blue irises, and he braces himself gently with a hand on Makoto's shoulder, in a breathtaking display of docility. The jerk in Makoto's hips and drawn out whimper echo around Haru, the feeling of Makoto rolling his hips into his stomach making him feel desired, beautiful.

"Call me..." he breaks off halfway, unable to get the words out but he's addicted to the swirl of delirious happiness that surges in his stomach and head when that word is formed in Makoto's voice, in that smile that's only for him.

But of course, Makoto will tease. He should have known. Green eyes narrow in amusement "Call you?" Haru clicks his tongue in frustration, head turning to the side to avoid Makoto's gaze. But Makoto's fingers catch his chin and turn it back to face him. "Mm?" he makes the sound light and enticingly open.

"Like... like this m-morning," Haru admits defeat with the darkest, _cutest!_ blush Makoto has yet seen on him. His heart almost melts in fondness at the pleading look in Haru's eyes and pull him down to rest their foreheads together. "Haru... love," he pronounces slowly, close enough for his breath to disturb Haru's eyelashes as Haru closes his eyes in surrender. Makoto takes the chance to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. Makoto turns his attention back to his chest and stomach, which earns him a sweet moan and colour that rides high on Haru's cheeks, muscles clenching beneath his lips. "You're so beautiful love," he praises and Haru's thighs tremble and his fingers comes down to entwine in Makoto's hair, subconsciously pushing him downwards to the part of his body desiring touch the most.

Makoto manoeuvres him to rest on the pillow at the head of the bed and kneels in between his legs. There is no hesitance now, only eagerness as if Haru had been fantasizing about this all this time too. Makoto strokes the supple skin of his thighs that lies just under the hem of his boxers, feeling Haru shiver before hooking his thumbs into the waistband and pulling his boxers down carefully. Haru's cock is half hard, flushed that pretty, familiar pink. He takes a moment to breathe, then bends down gives the head a lick, mimicking Haru's experimentation the other night and seals his lips over the head and sucks.

Haru _whines_.

Makoto literally tastes the bitter, musky liquid that drips out of Haru's cock when he moans around him (one of the tips he'd picked up from his own experience that night). Haru tries to control himself, prevent his hips from bucking into Makoto's mouth. The frustration leaks out of him in little moans of Makoto's name, guttural sounds that he didn't know he could make. Makoto feels his own wetness leak out around his cock, the lingering tremors wrecking Haru's body making him shiver as well. He reaches up to entwine his fingers with Haru's graceful ones. "Feel good?" he asks with a gasp as he lets Haru's cock out of his mouth to catch his breath.

" _Makoto_ ," is all Haru can get out, his hips still twitching, begging for Makoto's mouth again. Makoto obliges, until Haru's voice verges on _too good_ , then stops, trying his hardest to ignore the protesting whimper that comes out from Haru's mouth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it so far hehe ^^ I'll be back with more! Comments are much appreciated as always <3 thank you all for staying on with me on this fic, hopefully time in Japan will give me more inspiration!


	24. watch me try to breathe again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Like waking up without a sound  
>  I map the words out  
> Maybe you will say them  
> Would you help me rise up  
> Touch my face and watch me try to breathe again  
> Would you let me do this  
> Burn down the final wall_
> 
> _\- Momentum, 2002 ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO FROM TOKYO!
> 
> I'm sorry for not updating earlier, I was busy trying to make sure my toes didn't freeze off in the freak cold snap

"Lift your hips a bit Haru," Makoto grabs a pillow and places it under him, supporting his ass and lower back. Haru's about to ask why when Makoto's strokes his calves lovingly. "I uh, read about it online, they said it was good for first times...Hurts less."

While Haru settles himself comfortably on the softness, adjusting the position of the pillow until it frames his hips nicely without straining his back, Makoto clasps his hand seriously and tries not to stammer through what he intends to ask. "I- are you okay if I..." _There's literally no other way to say this._ "Um... open you up, Haru-chan?"

Haru's legs snap back closed together so quickly by instinct that it would have made Makoto laugh at any other time but he's dead serious now. He had dreamed about it for a week, how it would feel to breach Haru's resistance, to have him wholly and completely at his will, but he won't do anything unless Haru expressly allows him to.

Haru's heart and mind are racing hand in hand at a mile a minute. He had always imagined Makoto being the one doing it whilst playing out the scenario in his mind--it seemed natural, normal right? That the top would take care of the bottom? That he would be the one taking care of Haru? But now when Makoto is here, right in front of him, asking for his permission, he's struck by the fear that perhaps, just _maybe_ he hadn't washed out properly? Or if Makoto won't know how to do it?

Or, god forbid, Makoto can't find his prostate and he possibly starts crying from the pain?

_He doesn't. Fucking know._

But Makoto is still looking at him uncertainly, waiting for his answer. Haru is aware that he's taking a while to answer, but Makoto doesn't rush him, doesn't force words out of him. Finally, Haru decides to just quickly ask the question even though he thinks he might know the answer. It's kinda weird actually, seeing as he's literally naked, lying beneath Makoto who's only wearing his boxers that don't hide anything that he thinks he still has something he needs to protect, not to let Makoto see. "Um," he shuts his eyes and mumbles so he doesn't have to see Makoto's reaction. Just in case.

"I, um-if anything like, doesn't go to plan..." he hears his own voice crack and damn, it's pretty messy compared to his usual tone. "You won't think I'm like, um, I dunno, like-"

He chooses to ask in the negative. It's safer that way.

"Haru," Makoto's voice is fond, almost disbelieving. He nearly starts to say something but decides to abandon his position above Haru and eases himself down to snuggle next to him. "Haru-chan," he murmurs after pressing a soft kiss to his eyelids that remain stubbornly clenched shut. "'Course I won't... You're so beautiful you know? I'm not gonna like freak out or anything if something happens okay?" Haru doesn't answer immediately but Makoto is okay with it, he just noses into Haru's neck and kisses him there too, enjoying Haru's scent and down his throat, feeling Haru's Adam's apple bob under his lips.

"Okay," Haru says. He pulls Makoto even closer to him, burying his nose in the hollow of his boyfriend's throat and breathing in the smell of fresh sweat and the musk of Makoto's soap to calm down his racing heart.

Makoto's hand strays down to the slight curve of Haru's hip, caressing the smooth skin there. "If you want me to stop just say so yeah?" Makoto assures Haru once again. Haru nods jerkily, his expression still wary but cuddling his body almost imperceptibly closer against Makoto's.

Makoto's fingers glide slowly over the flesh of his ass, caressing, squeezing and admiring the soft skin there and the muscle that tenses under his touch. "Your ass feels so good in my hands, Haru," Makoto murmurs between kisses on his shoulder. He'd always thought that being the recipient of dirty talk would be crazily hot but it wasn't until Haru came along that he realised bring the giver of it and seeing the other person melt under your pressure is satisfying in a completely different way. Haru isn't as innocent as his eyes suggest because he muffles a groan into the pillowcase at Makoto's voice and rolls his hips, grinding against Makoto and pushing his ass more firmly into Makoto's grip. "Talk- _hah_ , talk to me more, Makoto-" Haru almost whispers and maybe, this is the way that he wants to use to cope better with the embarrassment.

"I love you so much Haru," Makoto breathes obediently, feeling his cheeks heat as he resolutely removes the filter from his brain and just lets everything he has ever wanted to say flow out of him. "You're so distracting whenever you're standing in front of me, I want to touch you after that night, want to roll your balls in my hand and hear you moan-" Haru breathes hard at the confession, and pushes his hand down from where it's cradling Haru's face down to where he is hottest, urging him to act on it. Makoto caresses the smooth swell of his ass as he cups Haru's sack lightly. " _Ahh_ ," Haru moans sweetly and his cock twitches as Makoto's hold on his ass becomes less tentative. "You want to touch me, Makoto?"

"Always," Makoto growls. "You always look so pretty and _tempting_ , and oh-" Haru has taken his leaking cock in his hand and pumps it, teasing the slit where pre-cum is seeping out. He eases himself away from Haru to reach for the lube on the bedside table. "I'm... gonna do it now okay Haru?" He warms up the lube in his fingers and reaches behind Haru again, easing gently between the cheeks to rub against his hole. Haru has his eyes clenched shut again and Makoto's pretty sure it's gonna make him tense up but he doesn't want to disarm him by making him open them. Easing his leg under Haru's to grant him better access and shuffling closer to him, Makoto starts rubbing the pad of his pointer in slow circles over the ring of muscle that's sporadically clenching and relaxing. 

Haru whimpers as Makoto's cock twitches against him, trying to get used to the alien sensation of another person touching him in such a private and protected place. Makoto presses comforting kisses to his shoulder, letting Haru relax.

"Can I put one in now?" He asks softly when Haru has stopped fidgeting. "Yeah," Haru says lowly. "Just... just be gentle okay?" 

"Of course," Makoto assures him, bending down to kiss him on the lips. Haru muffling moans and whimpers into his neck is more than enough to fire up his libido, but he forces himself to stay calm and steady, to only care about what Haru needs right now. When he puts in the second one, Haru cries out with a weak whine that makes Makoto suddenly aware of how delicate he is and the difference in their frames. 

"That's it, breathe for me Haru," Makoto murmurs, wiping away the sweat that has beaded on Haru's brow. "Ohmygod you're so hot."

"So... thick," Haru grits out, his back arching a little to accommodate the stretch. He had done it plenty of times to himself, but Makoto's fingers are altogether different. "Do you need a break?" Makoto worries. "Do you want me to take them out?"

"No I-" Haru is panting lightly, his fringe pushed up into a little quiff and shining faintly with sweat. "Just give me a while." Makoto's forehead wrinkles in concern but he listens, resting his wrist on the curve of Haru's ass and murmuring love words in his ear. Haru recovers enough to let him insert a third one, and it's so warm, and tight inside him, muscle fluttering around his fingers with Haru trying to relax himself. The thought of the same feeling surrounding his cock is something he cannot even fully comprehend--it makes his head spin and butterflies beat in his stomach.

Haru tells him that he's ready. Makoto isn't quite sure, but then again he's never done anything like this before, and he supposes Haru knows his ass better than he does for sure, so he reaches out for a foil packet and quickly rolls the pre-lubed condom over his cock,

"I thought you said you didn't know how to put one on," Haru breathes, amazed at the quick, practiced motion.

"I uh-I tried it a few times, this week," Makoto ducks his head, his face burning with a blush. "With what, a banana?" Haru looks like he's about to burst into giggles but Makoto wipes the mirth right off his face with his reply.

"With my cock," Makoto sobers him up with his strong , level gaze. "I was thinking of you all the time, Haru." The other man's eyes sharpen and soften at the same time, holding out a fair hand to him in languorous invitation.

He braces one hand on Haru's slim hip, and gingerly, carefully lines himself up. The heat of Makoto's cock pressed right against his hole makes Haru's breath arch in his throat and heat rise anew in his pelvis. Makoto feels the rhythmic clench of Haru's hole, the muscle brushing on his sensitive head and he groans out loud. "I'm... Can I go in now love?" he asks him and Haru's half-lidded nod is more than enough encouragement.

The first shallow thrust sheathes just the tip of his cock into Haru, and it's pulsing, hot, wet, oh fuck _so wet._ Haru has his eyes clenched shut, but the low, broken sound that Makoto makes at their first contact is enough to make his cock twitch. Makoto can hear his breaths getting heavier and more ragged as he inches slowly in. He's fit half his cock into Haru when his boyfriend cries out, his expression so erotically filled with pain and pleasure that makes Makoto want to thrust all the way in, into the heat and soft muscle that's clenching around him but forces himself to stay still. "D'you need me to pull out?" he asks breathlessly. His abs clench with the effort it takes to restrain himself and he presses a kiss to his shoulder as a distraction, trying to calm Haru at the same time. "No, _hah,_ just give me a while-" Haru's muscles are involuntarily clenching and hips shifting to accommodate Makoto's cock. It feels _so good_ , but makes him anxious at the same time. "You sure?" he checks again. "Yeah, y-you... You can try moving again?" Haru pants after half a minute, mewling when Makoto pushes his hips forward a little more, hands on Haru's waist. "D-does it feel... _ah!_ Is it good for you?" he asks, not caring about the whimpers that escape him anymore, just trying to take whatever Makoto has to give him.

"You're so tight Haru," Makoto groans in reply, clinging desperately to the vestiges of his his self-control to breach the tightness as slowly as he can until he's completely sheathed in Haru's body. "You're so good... Can you feel me inside you?" Makoto asks, wanting to hear it from Haru himself because the idea of Haru letting him do this, letting him see the most arousing sight of his life seems almost like a dream.

"You're so hard Makoto," Haru chokes out. "So _ah_ , so full of you-" Haru's semi-conscious words rush through Makoto's body, making him harden even more and he's sure Haru feels it, from the way he jerks and moans. There's the feeling of being filled and stretched, more than anything else in Haru's body. It doesn't necessarily feel good right now, but Makoto's look of barely contained lust is enough for him. "Just-... stay still," Haru pleads as his body adjusts. Makoto is breathing hard, waiting for Haru's next word. But Haru doesn't say anything, just holds his arms out in a welcome loops them around Makoto's neck when he shuffles closer.

"Where's your prostate Haru-chan?" Makoto asks with concern, his brows knitted together. He knew it would hurt, but his heart twinges at the teary expression on Haru's face and the perpetual fluttering of the muscles encasing him that are intoxicating him, screaming at him to thrust, and to claim.

"U-up a little," Haru vaguely answers, his eyes focused on the bulge of Makoto's shoulder muscles. Makoto angles his next slide in slightly higher, gripping Haru's slim hips for leverage. He thrusts in once, twice, praying that he'll get it right. Haru suddenly stiffens on his third try, his mouth falling open and back arching powerfully upwards, hips bearing down heavily.

"Ah! Oh _fuck_ , Mako-" Whatever he wants to say next is cut off by a gasp, hands grasping to hold on to anything, anything at all. Hitting his prostate is nothing new, but the sensation of Makoto doing it, feeling the heat, wetness, _thickness_ inside him--he can only beg for _more,_   _please, Mako!_

His hips are driving forward and pulling back in natural motions taught by instinct. Haru lets his head hang back, his jaw slack and eyes glazed over with feeling, letting Makoto's big hands manhandle him. They roam over his body, playing with his nipples, pulling his cock in time with his thrusts. Makoto lets Haru's legs and fucks him into the mattress, kissing his neck and lips over and over again. Haru feels himself building up to his peak and tries to hold himself back, fists clenching in the duvet, panting. Makoto feels the tension in his hips when they press down and anxiety sweeps through him again, even as pleasure fights for dominance his mind. "Haru-chan?" He checks and the sound of his name being called so intimately in Makoto's hoarse voice makes Haru whine and clutch the sheets tighter to keep control. He grips Makoto's forearm and suddenly pulls, making him lose traction and slip, catching himself just before his chest collides with Haru's. "I'm _ohh_... Mako, close Makoto-" he moans against his lips, clasping him close to him when he feels Makoto's cock throb in response. "Just cum Haru," Makoto replies breathlessly. "You look so good when you cum-- _Ah!_ " He starts thrusting in him harder than before, filling the room with the sounds of their bodies smacking against each other. Haru feels his prostate being hit endlessly over and over again, and he's floating in a haze of pleasure when Makoto smooths his thumb over the head of his cock and whispers his name to make him lose control.

Suddenly his body tips itself off the edge and it's too much, too hot, and the only thing he knows is Makoto, Makoto in him and all around him. "Mak- _mmmm_ , oh Mako... Makoto," he keens, higher, louder than he ever has while releasing alone. "Makoto!" His entire body goes rigid, then shudders and he registers Makoto's back being more flushed and hotter than he has ever remembered it as he falls back to earth. The erratic spasms in the walls around his cock create an even more compelling tightness, the knowledge that _he_ had made Haru cum, that the man he had longed for all his life was underneath him in the same bed fogging up all other functions and pushing him to his release. "Har- _shit!_ I'm so... close, Haru!" Haru tightens weakly around him in anticipation stroking his hair, kissing his neck and sneaking a hand down to grope at his ass. Makoto is moaning unashamedly into his skin, praises and compliments that Haru feels a tightness in his chest to know that he sincerely means.

The heaviness in Makoto's balls becomes almost unbearable, and he spurts abruptly into the condom with a low, uncontrolled groan, hips jerking violently into the warmth and wetness that's surrounding his cock, driving deeper, further inside Haru. "You fucked me so well Makoto," Haru soothes him down from his high as he lays there panting harshly, drained of his strength and energy. "You're so perfect." Haru's cum is pearly translucent from where it has splattered into his navel, and Makoto can't help but appreciatively dip his tongue into the depression, moaning softly at the salty, bitter taste and feeling Haru's abs twitch at the touch.

They don't bother to get dressed after they're done, just shifting subtly away from each other so that the sweat on their chests can dry, listening to the sounds of the other person catching their breath. It's strangely intimate in a way that neither of them would imagine--simply lying next to each other in companionable, understanding silence, their hands barely touching but a tingling in their fingers reminding them of closeness.

"Haru-chan," Makoto calls his name gently. "I'm gonna get a towel to clean you up okay?" Haru feels too tired to answer and so just does something like a flop of his wrist that makes Makoto laugh as he leaves. His lover comes back moments later with a face towel that's wet with warm water and starts cleaning his chest where his own cum is drying. The faintly rough sensation of the towel is soothing against his skin, and he obediently turns his head when Makoto tries to clean his neck. He ventures lower, as gentle as he can while he wipes up the leftover lube on Haru's thighs and the crease of his ass, "Anywhere that I missed?" Makoto asks softly, wanting to ease Haru out of the daze he seems to be in as comfortably as possible. "Don't think so," Haru whispers hoarsely as he feels himself sink back into that dazed, floaty headspace. When Makoto climbs into the bed with him, Haru turns on his side slowly to minimise the ache and kisses the first part of Makoto he can reach which happens to be his chin. "I wanted to hold back for you," he says a little sulkily.

Makoto laughs in genuine amusement. "Was it good, at least?" he asks, stroking Haru's bare hip. When Haru nods and caresses his jaw, Makoto lets out a happy sigh. "You can try again next time Haru," he says. "We can try over and over until we perfect the timing."

Haru stares at him in shock and amazement. Tachibana Makoto? Dropping an innuendo? Did sex mess with the benevolent, family-friendly, child-safe man he thought would never be capable of uttering a dirty word outside of the heat of the moment? Makoto just laughs at him again and draws him in gently to kiss his head, rubbing the side of his neck in soothing strokes with his thumb. "Come on, I'll give you a massage."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always great please do leave them if you enjoyed this and want to encourage me to make this into a series HAHA


	25. Warm bright eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So if you’re out there in the cold  
>  I’ll cover you in moonlight  
> If you’re a stranger to your soul  
> I’ll bring you to your birthright  
> I want the storm inside you awoken now  
> I want your warm bright eyes  
> To never look away  
> Don’t you ever look away_
> 
> _-Never Look Away, 2013_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo this is the last chapter for this fic!! Thank you all for sticking around with me for almost a year now--it's been amazing to create my own little bubble of a universe and share it with others :D 
> 
> Do subscribe to this series for more of this AU! (hint hint, do they get a house together? :P)

_A number of months later_  


An uncharacteristic sound of heels taps taps taps towards Haru's cubicle. When he looks up to see who it is, he's surprised by a young lady's slightly nervous smile framed by artfully arranged locks of pastel pink hair. _Who's she again?_ They had bumped into each other once in the pantry, while he was getting a cup of chamomile tea and exchanged the usual pleasantries, stuff that Haru has gotten used to saying without needing to think or remember very much. Admin? Or someone who answers calls? Or-

"Can I... help you?" he asks after he's stared up at her for about five seconds, and it's evident that she's not going to be the one opening her mouth first.

"Oh, no... I mean, yes. Uh," she seems to be having trouble with her words so Haru just waits for her to finish fumbling and continue. "I was wondering if, uhm, youwouldliketogofordinnertogether?" Her last few words are jumbled together in a squeak and Haru frowns in confusion.

He thinks he knows what he heard. He hopes what he heard was wrong. "Pardon?" He asks. Perhaps this will give her a chance to reconsider? He shuts down his laptop in the mean time, noting the pretty matte gold fabric of her dress. Its pattern of leaves and small flowers would probably look good on Makoto as a vest. Or something.

"I, uh... Would you like to eat dinner together?" she squeaks again, and strikes Haru as very much the timid type. Great. He'll probably come across as more brusque than he already does.

"Ah I'm sorry, I-" he closes his laptop and stands, scooping up his coat from the back of his chair just to have somewhere else to look and divert some of the awkwardness (at least on his part). "... I already have someone waiting at home for me."

"Oh... Your um, wife, Nanase-san?"

Haru pauses, wondering how to answer the question as truthfully but vaguely as possible. "Not quite... But someone who uh, means a lot to me." She doesn't immediately look like she understands but Haru needs to make his escape now before he embarrasses himself because he seems to have as much social grace as an octopus when these kinds of difficult situations crop up. "I'm sorry," he hastens to add again. Objective, he can handle. Emotions though, are slightly out of his depth. Especially those of other people, and apparently what he thinks is comforting is not always so. Makoto is trying to help him with that. Probably because Makoto is the only one so far who understands that he's even trying to be comforting.

When he steps into his house an hour later, the smell of soup floats out to greet him and he smiles despite himself.

"Makoto," he greets, gently dropping his chin onto the other man's shoulder to see what he's cooking. "Haru-chan!" Makoto replies brightly. "I'm making soup with the seafood concentrate you bought the other day."

"I told you I would do it," Haru says mildly as he walks out to the hall to put his bag and coat down on the sofa.

"Ah yeah, but I was home first so I thought I'd just start," Makoto calls back to him. "You should come and try it though!" His voice has a certain warm, ringing quality to it that Haru always finds comfort in. It's like Makoto's joy and acceptance are transmitted through his voice, dancing around the house, enveloping Haru even though he's not right beside him. And he calls Haru's house _home,_ as if it's a natural thing to come back to where Haru stays and make it his place of rest too.

Haru gets a porcelain spoon out of the drawer when he comes back in, dipping it into the soup. "I think it needs a bit more," he decides.

"Of the concentrate?"

"Yeah," Haru replies, collecting another spoonful. "Try?" He nudges the spoon against Makoto's mouth, feeding it to him. "Mm, maybe the cabbage diluted it," he says thoughtfully after, and grabs the bottle sitting on the counter, pouring three portions out into the spoon that had just been in his mouth over the pot for Haru to tip them in.

Makoto pulls him into his side with an arm around his waist, pressing a kiss to his neck, in the hollow just below his ear. Haru smells faintly like the cologne he had given him on a whim, and it makes a warm feeling rise in Makoto's heart that Haru likes what he had chosen. "Was your day good?" he enquires with a smile.

Haru leans into his embrace, letting himself be engulfed by the homely warmth and familiarity. "Some girl tried to ask me out for dinner," he says with a sigh. Makoto's jaw tenses but the rest of him does not, and Haru is silently thankful once again that Makoto is such a controlled person. He doesn't know how he would deal with someone more inclined to dramatic expressions of emotion. "But I said no, obviously," he continues quickly because Makoto would definitely want to know everything. "Told her I had someone waiting at home... But it was kinda-" he breaks off the sentence suddenly and buries his face in Makoto's chest.

"Kinda what?" All the tension is gone as quickly as it had appeared and Makoto sounds amused now.

"Awkward! Makoto, stop laughing!" Haru fumes, headbutting him but leaning to rest the side of his head on the comforting firmness. "You know how awkward I am, how was I supposed to react to that kind of invitation without notice?!"

Makoto keeps a warm palm on Haru's shoulder blades while he eases his left arm out of his grip to stir the soup. "Well... You were nice about it weren't you?" Haru randomly aims a weak punch at where he roughly gauges his diaphragm to be as if to retort _What do you think?_

"Did you tell her it was a lover?" Makoto laughs even more when he sees Haru's faint blush and narrowed eyes appear as he looks up. "Someone who wears your apron and cooks while waiting for you to come home?" The soup has started bubbling so Makoto turns the stove off and leaves it to stay. Haru isn't glaring at him yet so he decides to push his luck a little more. "Who spends his spare time thinking about your kisses?"

The yellow and orange t shirt that Makoto is wearing stretches just that delicious bit more over the breadth of his shoulders as he sets the ladle down and leans lazily back on the counter top. It makes Haru's mind go pleasantly blank but he's not one to turn down an invitation delivered like that. He closes the distance between them, pressing his mouth to Makoto's and he tastes like the mango mints he had bought the other day. It's warm, insistent. Haru's hands are impatiently slipping under his t shirt, gliding up his back. Possessive, tender, a little vulnerable--that's what Haru is. Makoto holds him close, taking his time to recall Haru's taste and when they part, a breathy "Haru-chan" escapes his lips before he realises it, unconsciously following Haru's lips. The low sound of his voice alone makes Haru want to kiss him again. So he does.

"I'm gonna check if my boss replied my email kay?" Haru murmurs when they part after a few minutes of just kissing and getting reacquainted with each other after a long day.

"At least change out first, Haru-" Makoto protests. And honestly, Haru doesn't see the need to or the difference it'll make but Makoto always holds to the principle that one will always be more comfortable in home clothes and besides, _office clothes sometimes have that weird aircon smell Haru!_ So even though he doesn't see the great use of it especially since he hasn't showered yet, he obediently goes into his (their) bedroom and gets the clothes he had hung up after changing out in the morning. It's not a big deal after all. And well, frankly he'd even walk around the house in quilted slippers if Makoto had preferred him to. So.

Makoto calls him out from where he's staring at his laptop a while later, and Haru hurries out to grill the mackerel. Makoto had tried to do it once as a surprise... But to say that the mackerel had sacrificed its life in vain would probably be the best euphemism Haru has for that time. He undertakes the familiar motions of salting it lightly, turning on the gas stove with a click and hearing Makoto's understated humming as he checks on the rice.

" _Itadakimasu."_ The last time Haru had eaten was at noon and he realises that he's hungrier than he thought. They eat in silence for a while, the only sound being their wooden chopsticks clicking against porcelain bowls. "Makoto," Haru looks down at his soup with a frown. "How many of those frozen scallops did we have left?"

"Three." Makoto replies jovially, eating another spoonful of soup with a carefree sigh. "I just put all of them in."

Haru looks down at his howl again. Two scallops are bobbing traitorously in the soup. He suddenly feels a wave of guilt for the encounter with the lady earlier, even though he didn't do anything or respond but Makoto is so sweet, and kind, and _good_ to him he can't believe this man is real sometimes. It's all these small things that don't seem to amount to much that manage to overwhelm him in their sum.

As Makoto reaches out with his chopsticks to the plate of mackerel, a hand suddenly comes over from the opposite side to cover his. Haru's gaze--it burns through him in a mixed light of determination, faint desperation, but with an underlying softness. "You know... You... I, uh-" Makoto stares at him in surprise for a moment, but sets his cutlery down quietly, taking Haru's slim wrist and facing the palm up to press a kiss to the middle of it, letting Haru feel his smile on his skin. "You know I love you too, Haru-chan."

Haru's face flames red then. But Makoto just releases him with that guileless, innocent smile of his (how deceiving at times) and lifts a mouthful of grilled mackerel to Haru's lips with his chopsticks which Haru leans forward and accepts with a deliberately bland expression while willing the flush to subside from his ears.

And well, perhaps the 159th skyscraper in Tokyo won't make a difference in anyone else's life. Maybe no one will know or remember him. Most probably. Rather definitely.

But oh, it's enough, enough, and so much more.

It changed _his_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew please do leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed this!! It really means a lot to us writers just to have a line or two to know that our work is liked


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